This is Hogwaaarts!
by Horatius
Summary: A new school has been found. New people, new challenges, new threats, and new customs. A Harry PotterX300 crossover. Romance, and some weirdness apply in later chapters.  AU, sometime around HBP.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I'm not making money off this. If J.K Rowling, Frank Miller and Stephen Turnbull want to come after me for this, fine. I don't have anything for them to take anyway.

Please bear in mind that this is an AU, and as such I reserve the right to go against canon if it makes for a better story. Thank you.

The whole concept for this story came from a bet and a fic writer's website. You can blame my own arrogance and the phrase "sure, how tough could that be" for the content of this story.

I'm posting this on the 2487th anniversary of the Battle of Thermopalyae. Just to give it some significance.

Also, if you have trouble with some of the more exotic names, Wikipedia can offer help on some of them.

Foreword

London.

Once upon a time, deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Magics, there was an archivist by the name of Robert Drake. He was a modest man, with modest dreams and modest ability. His job was to catalog the goings-on at the various academies the wizarding world used to train the next generation of wizards and witches. The books would compile the records themselves, but it was his responsibility to check them and make reports for the officials at the Ministry. Which, in all honesty, no one really read.

He had been performing this task for many years and had become quite good at it. Unfortunately, when one is in an archive, one tends to become curious about some of the detailed goings-on at other academies. Mr. Drake had read the accounts of some of the other schools. He had read the goings on at the Romanian academy. (How some of those boys had avoided expulsion, death, dismemberment and worse would forever remain a mystery.) He had read the accounts of the French academy. (If ever a school needed a charm to ward off cat-fights and other such mischief, this was the one.) Then there was the Swedish academy, and its Viking traditions. (Apparently their Viking traditions on lawbreaking were still practiced.) There were even accounts of the American academy. (Although he could never understand why and how the Americans got an academy.) He had read the journals of some of the academies that had been destroyed over the many centuries. The ancient academy at Alexandria which had been burned to the ground still had records here. And today, he was reading the accounts of a pair of academies that had been destroyed over two millennia ago. The first one was destroyed when its island sank into the sea. The other one… _wait. This can't be right. This record is reporting graduations last year. As well as the death of a student earlier this year._ Drake's eyes went wide, and he suddenly developed a very empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Today was going to be a very interesting day.

"Sir?" Drake asked as he tapped on the office door of his supervisor and let himself in.

"Hmm?"

"Sir, we seem to have a problem. I think I've found a missing school." Drake said sheepishly as he laid the ancient tome onto his supervisor's desk.

"Mister Drake, we do not simply lose schools. Clearly you are mistaken."

Robert Drake turned the book around so that the entries could be read more clearly. As the supervisor peered over his glasses to read the text, the supervisor had the exact same reaction Drake did when he read the text. Yes, today was turning out to be very interesting indeed.

Ministry of Magicks council chamber

London

Three months later.

The ministers were talking amongst themselves; some quietly, some not-so-quietly, and some quite loudly. The air had become stifling in the past few hours as a grand presentation had been made to the council. In the center of the councilor chamber, Alexander Deacon paced nervously. His dark robes made him seem slightly larger than he actually was, but by no means did it convey anything imposing or threatening. Sweat was beading at his brow as he returned to the chair and table set in the center of the chamber. He mopped his brow and nodded to the gentleman that was standing a respectful distance behind the table. Standing next to the chair where Deacon sat was a woman. To describe her as beautiful would be doing injustice to language itself. She stood a mere 5'4", but the knee-length diaphanous silk dress she wore accented every curve and hid just enough to be all the more tantalizing. Her sapphire-blue eyes projected an aura of control and understanding. Her long black hair was braided into a ponytail kept in check with golden ribbon and hung down; neatly accenting the subtle curve of her bosom and contrasting the polished bronze breastplate she wore. Her left hand was perched on the hilt of a falcata, its bronze grip polished so perfectly, the councilors could see their reflections from across the room. She glanced at the helmet and shield that were at the table, knowing what they symbolized. In an attempt to be more social, she shifted the long, deep-red cloak from her side to her back, revealing more skin while allowing her to try to keep cool in the oppressive heat of the chamber.

The First Minister pounded his gavel for silence and order.

"Lady Metis…" He began.

"Just Metis." She corrected in a soft tone that completely belittled her ability.

"Metis. Yes. We have sat here and listened to Mister Deacon's presentation regarding your school. The Agoge." Metis nodded as he pronounced the word. "And I find it hard to believe that one of our own academies was lost for over two thousand years."

"Nevertheless, it has happened. And now that we have been found, we would like very much to return to the function for which the Agoge was created."

"And what function would that be?"

"Training guardians sentinels and soldiers for the wizarding world. Just as we have been doing for centuries." A low rumble circulated through the chamber. The First Minister raised his hand for silence.

"You have been isolated for so long, what makes you think you are even capable of reintegrating with the wizarding world? You have been alone for so long your customs and spells may no longer be compatible with ours."

"Our spells and magics have remained pure and unchanged since the time of the collapse. While it is true we have been forced to make some concessions due to internal issues, I can assure you that the Agoge has remained pure; as pure as the last time we sent an emissary to this chamber."

The First Minister opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a dignified looking woman several seats to his left.

"And what do you propose to do to prove to us that your…school is still capable of performing its tasks in the modern world?"

Metis paused briefly to look at the woman.

"I will bring a group of students to one of your schools. There, they will live and study amongst your students, proving that they are as I claim."

There was a murmur amongst the gallery. The mere thought of allowing soldiers and war mages into a normal school would have been unthinkable only a year ago. But following the resurgence of attacks by the Deatheaters and other minions of He-who-must-not-be-named, the idea of reintegrating with a military school did have some merit. And, since there WAS a certain school that seemed to bearing the brunt of those attacks, it may prove to be an ideal place to place these… students.

An older, greasy-skinned man spoke/ shouted first.

"First Minister, you can't actually be considering dropping a group of junior sociopaths into our educational system!"

The First Minister pulled slowly at his beard, pondering. Carefully listening to the debates going on around him. After a pause, he spoke:

"Actually, I am doing just that."

A heavy-set woman on the council voiced her opinion. Loudly.

"You cannot be actually considering taking a pack of barbaric wolves and dropping them into the middle of our carefully regulated and administered academic community!"

"You mean the flocks of sheep and gaggles of defenseless bunnies we have created?" Another minister shouted back.

"Actually," the First Minister began, "I intend to take a well-trained and controlled pack of Dire Wolves, drop them into our flock of sheep and force them to learn how to look like sheep. Thus, when a threat appears, our new wolves will be indistinguishable from the sheep." Murmured protests started in the gallery. "And if we are very lucky, some of our sheep may learn to become something resembling the wolves."

Metis simply smiled. _The Agoge would live again. As it should. _

"But what about the safety of our students? What if there was an accident? What if your young wolves hurt someone?"

Metis glanced at the parental-looking woman. Much as a wolf would eye its next meal.

"You have an infirmary, don't you?"

End Intro


	2. Chapter 1 Foundlings

Agoge Summer Exercises

North-Central Siberia

August

The humidity was unbearable. The mosquitoes should have been issued license plates. The leeches hunted in packs. The winter's ice and snow had melted into a dense morass that threatened to swallow students whole. The sun only set for a few short hours this time of year. It may have felt like hell, but it was a necessary part of hell. Every student was required to undergo this rite of passage. If they failed, their summer exercise, it meant either removal from the Agoge or being held back a year; a fate far worse than death. This year was no different. The underclassmen had dug themselves into the brush, waiting for the upperclassmen to attack. The attack would be swift and brutal. It was disturbingly normal for bones to be broken on both sides during the mock attack. Once in a great while, deaths occurred. But not this year.

As predicted, the attack came. The underclassmen lost several of their sentries long before the attack began. The upperclassmen used deception and surprise to the best of their benefit. When it was over, the 'treasure' the sixty underclassmen had been guarding was safely in the hands of the upperclassmen. The skull-sized blue and yellow painted stone was being tossed around to the triumphal sound of celebratory cheers. Wine was flowing. Fires had been lit, charms had been erected to keep the wildlife away, food was cooking, and the Iota year students proudly became Kappa year students. Soon they would become Lambda year, and eventually take their places among the Spartans.

"Ursus! Catch!" a girl screamed as she leapt into the air, aiming herself toward her fellow student. The young man glanced up at the figure hurling through the air at him. With an ease borne of practice, he snatched her from the air, her impact scarcely causing him to shift his balance.

"You know you shouldn't do that." Ursus chided, as he cradled the woman against his chest. "What if I dropped you? Especially in this mud. We'd have to send a search party after you."

"Ursus. (sigh) We both know you'd never drop me. You need me too much. Who'd pull those barbs and burrs out of your backside? Who'll knit the bones in your thick skull back together the next time you and Equis get into a fight?" she pulled herself up higher on his chest to whisper into his ear, "And who's the only one that can take care of you when you get THAT way?"

Ursus grumbled and then smiled. He then melodramatically extended his arms, and dropped the young woman into a large mud puddle. The look of shock on her face was too precious for words. As soon as she hit the ground, the profanities began to flow like water. They could be heard over the applause from the other students. They could be heard over Ursus' deep rolling laughter. When her profanities ceased, she too began to laugh with the students. Ursus looked at her, with mud and rotting weeds covering her body and hair, the mud covering the training garb she wore, giving her a uniformly black appearance. Ursus smirked and shouted: "Asaria! Catch!" and flung himself wholeheartedly into the mud next to her.

In another part of the camp, Metis had arrived to check on the status of her students.

"Iponia, Attend."

And with that simple phrase, the class leader came crashing through some low nettle bushes to stand before her headmistress. Iponia saluted smartly, the mud and grime from the previous weeks still evident on her face and clothes.

"Iponia. I need you to assemble twelve students, including yourself. Eight from the Kappas; four from the Iotas. Have them in my office at noon tomorrow. I have an assignment for you.

"Headmistress, may I ask what kind of mission? The nature of the mission will change who I select."

"Iponia, I need you to select individuals that are pristine examples of the Spartan way and will represent the Agoge under the most grueling and bizarre circumstances. Adaptability will be the key for this group. Those are my instructions. Those are my orders, Iponia. Tomorrow noon."

Iponia saluted and returned to the celebration.

The next day, all the festivity of the upperclassmen's victory was a pleasant memory. Every one of the twelve selected students stood in perfectly cleaned and pressed school uniforms. Each of the Kappas stood there in their fur-trimmed burgundy cloak, close fitting pants and linen shirt. The Iotas were identical, save for their blue cloaks. Iponia examined every one of them. She studied each of the eleven students in line, searching for any discrepancy in their uniforms or appearance. When Iponia was satisfied with their appearance, she knocked on the heavy wood door of the headmistress' office. "Attend" came the reply.

The students snapped to attention and filed into the office, moving as a single entity.

Within the office, the students filed into three rows facing the dark carved stone desk.

Metis looked them over. Her confidence in Iponia's ability to select a group for a vaguely defined task was rewarded. Iponia had chosen well. Had there been any discrepancy between the students that arrived and the ones Metis herself would have chosen, they would have been removed from the office without a moment's hesitation.

"Students, we have been given an opportunity. After nearly two and a half millennia of exclusion, the High Council of Magicks has seen fit to welcome us back into the fold of the Mage's World. The twelve of you have been selected as the Agoge's first emissaries into what is now called the Wizarding World in twenty-five centuries. You will go forth, you will represent us to the world. Through you the world will be reminded of what the Agoge does. Through you, the modern world of magic will remember why we were created. They will remember Sparta." Had the students been any less disciplined, they would have cheered.

"You must remember many things about the people you will be learning with. They are not the Spartans of the past. They are not Athenians, they are not Phoecians, they are not Aegyptians, they are not even Thracians. But in their defense, they have not become Helots. They have no idea of what you are capable of. You must show them." Metis paused as she began to pace back and forth before the students for dramatic effect.

"To be accepted in this new world, you must follow THEIR rules of conduct as best you can. This means you will be on your best behavior. This does not mean you will stop being what you are; you will not stop being part of the Agoge, you will not stop being Spartans. It simply means you must adapt to their rules and customs. You will not cause them permanent harm, no matter what the provocation. Try not to scare them. They may be the same age as you, but you have had an additional six years of training and discipline. They are still governed by fear. Do not play to their fears. While we are there, they are your kin. They are to be treated and protected as you would one of the Agoge. But remember that the Agoge comes first. The group over all. Do not humiliate them and do not mock their customs. They are many and wield great power in the poli." She paused. "And one final detail. There will be absolutely no painting of eggs. No. Painting. Of. Eggs. Do you understand me?"

"We understand." The group intoned.

Metis stood before Ursus and looked up into his face. He towered over her by at least a foot. His muscular bulk gave the headmistress a definitely juvenile look. But there was no mistaking the fact that she was in command.

"Ursus, say it." She commanded.

"There shall be no painting of eggs, headmistress." Ursus scowled resolutely.

"Are you certain?" she glared into his dark eyes, demanding his compliance, which she knew she would get. He may not be the best leader or the brightest student, but he was strong, he was fierce and he was loyal.

"My word is given, headmistress." Ursus stated with a cold resolution that assuaged any doubt that her word was law.

"Good." Metis' attitude changed like she flipped a switch. "Now, prepare yourselves. We leave in two days. Departure time to be announced. Have your bags packed. Draw your kit from the armory. Assemble in travel attire in the main courtyard. I expect to see spit and polish as well as fresh lacquer. Inspection prior to departure. Questions?" No one moved. Metis looked them over one last time. "That is all." The students came to attention, pivoted and left her office.

Later that evening, Clio sat at one of the tables in the communal dining hall, his still-full cup of cider staring back at him. At the table before him was a large tome that he had ordered up. The title on the spine bore words in English and Latin, but the charm around his neck allowed him to read it easily: A History of Hogwarts Academy. The stories and accounts held within were interesting. The fact that they only dated back a few centuries was amusing in a twisted and vaguely distressing way.

"What are you reading, Clio?" a soft and feminine voice that appeared from nowhere asked.

"Nyx. Quit that. You know how much that annoys me when you do that."

The brunette chuckled and sat herself across the table. Her long, faded wine-colored tunic slid silently around her hips. Nyx took the cup from Clio's hand and downed the bulk of it in a single gulp.

"Quit what?" she smiled.

"That whole 'hiding-in-plain-sight-and-sneaking-around' thing you keep doing. (sigh) Never mind." Clio shook his head and went back to his book.

"So tell me about this 'Hog-werts' place."

And with that, Clio began to recite the long and distinguished history of Hogwarts academy. When he had finished, Nyx looked at him.

"These people are awful."

"I know. But Metis and the Headmaster seem to think we can learn from these people. And we don't question them."

"For the greater good" Nyx toasted her friend with the school motto.

Clio took the cup from Nyx's hand, repeated the toast and finished off what little cider was in the cup.

Two days later, twelve students stood in a circle. Each one had what passed for personal luggage as well as their academy-issued attire and their armory-issued equipment. The sun was still high in the sky as mid-afternoon approached. The day was warm to say the least. The only shade came from the twin statues of Athena; one helmeted, the other virginal. Iponia made the final inspections. When everyone had passed beneath her watchful eye and had met with her approval, Iponia pulled the polished helmet down over her head.

"Lyra, it is time. Let's go."

With that, one of the students brought a two-barreled flute to his lips and began to play. The notes began as a beautifully haunting tune, and gradually progressed into a tune that was not meant for the ears of mere humans. As the song reached its apex, the universe responded. The inlaid marble and warm sunshine at the temple of Athena was replaced by the cool slate flagstones and warm torchlight of an ancient castle.

Yesterday Morning

Hogwart's Academy

Prefect's Meeting.

"… Thank you, Matthew, for your presentation on this years incoming students. I will assume that the new first-year students are being eased into their houses. This ends the formal part of our meeting." The Gryphondor prefect nodded and returned to his seat. Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and looked out across the table. She was determined to have her first full year as Headmistress at Hogwarts Academy go as smoothly as possibly. Even with the Ministry looking over her shoulder and rendering 'assistance' as she went.

"Before we adjourn, I feel it is my responsibility to inform you of events that will be transpiring this year." The professor took a sip from her teacup. "The Ministry of Magicks has decided, in its infinite wisdom, that Hogwarts will be receiving a delegation of students from another school. This school has been developing in relative isolation for a very long time, and as such, their students are not familiar with the customs and traditions of schools such as Hogwarts."

"What school? Where are they from?" The Ravenclaw Prefect asked.

"All I have been told is that they are from a school called the 'Agoge Academy'. And that this academy is located on an island in southern Greece." The prefects nodded and began taking notes. "I have been told that they are the same age as our sixth and seventh year students. This means that they will be participating in our mundane classes as well as participating in some of our advanced magical classes. I have asked their assistant headmistress, a Professor Metis, to speak as a guest lecturer in our Basic and Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, as well as several other classes."

"Where will they be staying, Professor?"

"Based upon requests from various members of the Ministry as well as their own Headmaster, it has been decided that they will not be residing in the guest dormitory, but rather in the normal student dormitory. More specifically, and because of certain peculiarities, they will be residing in the Gryphondor dormitory."

The Gryphondor prefect looked a bit puzzled. "What kind of peculiarities?"

The professor was starting to look uncomfortable. "In accordance with Hogwarts policies, they will be separated based upon gender. This will be a change in their normal living arrangements. And…" She paused, looking like she wanted to say one thing, and then transitioned to another, "and they are communal. In the extreme. And they are… aggressive. It seems that The Agoge Academy is a martial school, and as such they are trained in the use of magicks as a more… aggressive art."

"Just how aggressive are they? Are they dangerous?" The Slytherin prefect asked.

"Oh, no no no. I have it on the best of authority that their study of more aggressive magicks is a contemplative and meditative study, much like ancient Asian martial arts. I'm also told that they practice a rigid callisthenic training program. Perhaps we can encourage them to participate in some of the athletics programs while they're here. Maybe even get them to start a Quidditch team." The professor sipped at her tea once again. She actually looked happy at the thought. She took a soft breath before continuing.

"I have been advised that their communal upbringing may present certain problems with their socialization. Please advise your students that, for the time being, they should not attempt to interact with these students on anything more than a superficial level. Anything more than a simple 'Hello' or 'good morning' may confuse them. Should the Agoge students wish anything more than this, they will make themselves known."

Today (Friday)

Hogwart's

Dinnertime

The Great Hall was abuzz with the sounds of students. A thousand conversations overlapped. New students were instructed as to the intricacies and unwritten rules of meal times at Hogwarts. Older students caught up with each other and discussed the class load of the coming year. Classes had been in session for nearly a week, and the routine had begun.

Over at the Gryphondor table, a conspiratorial discussion had begun somewhere near the head table.

"What did you find out? Anything?" The Head Boy leaned in near some of the students in his charge.

"Define 'Anything'." The rather attractive brunette girl responded as she fought with a particularly unruly piece of meat on her plate.

"'Mione, c'mon. You must have found out something about these people."

"You realize, of course, you didn't give me much to go on. The name of a school; and not only an incomplete one but an incorrect one at that, a possible location of the school, and the name of one of their instructors; which you got wrong as well." She harrumphed. The two boys sitting near her chuckled. The redhead sitting to one side and the raven-haired boy on her other began to quietly laugh at what she was doing to the prefect. They knew where this conversation was going. After browbeating and antagonizing the Head Boy and making him know how hard she had worked, she'd give him the information he wanted. It was all part of the game she played.

"Better tell him, 'Mione, before he gets mad." The raven-haired, bespectacled boy said.

"What's in it for me?" she asked the prefect as she popped a bit of a chip into her mouth.

"What's in it for you… hmm, let me think." The Head Boy paused for a moment. "How about you tell me what I asked you to find for me, and I don't tell anyone what I saw a group of here-to-fore unnamed students doing in the house common room the other night, well after lights-out." He grinned a wicked grin. The eyes on the two boys went wide. The girl began to sputter like a length of bad plumbing.

"But-but-but… we were just…you can't know anything about that…" she stammered.

"I do now. I was bluffing. And you need to get rid of that guilty conscience. Now talk."

That earned an evil glare from the girl and a guilty blush from both of the boys.

"Fine." She said through gritted teeth. She always knew her conscience would get her into trouble some day. "There isn't a school called 'The Agoge Academy'. The only reference to anything called the Agoge was the school system used in ancient Greece, specifically in Athens and Sparta. There were twin magical academies that dedicated themselves to the twin aspects of Athena. The Martial Academy of Athena and the Virginal Academy of Athena. The Martial Academy was destroyed in an earthquake around 450 BCE. They consolidated both academies into one. The island the Academies of Athena was on sank into the sea and was lost about a century later. Right around the time Alexander the Great died. The academies were run by two brothers: Castor and Pollux, at least I think they were brothers. And I got the impression that they were either immortal or there was a string of headmasters that kept taking the names of their predecessors. After the academies consolidated, there was only one headmaster: Oceanus. There was a Dean of Students of sorts. Her name was Metis, there's a picture of her in an old book, and she looked just… like… that…" Her voice trailed away as she looked up at the teacher's table at the front of the room.

On the other side of the Great Hall, a similar conversation was taking place.

"What did you find out?" The Slytherin prefect asked some of his underlings.

"Only that they put Granger on it and that she spent the better part of this afternoon researching things in the old stacks. And I do mean the Old Stacks. Nothing down there but a bunch of dusty old scrolls."

"Did you find out anything else?"

"Only that the new visiting professor comes from some Greek school, and that she's supposed to be watching over some exchange students that are showing up today."

"So she's a professor and a babysitter. This should be pretty easy." The brown-haired Slytherin Head Boy and his white-haired 'assistant' smiled with evil satisfaction.

With the meal ending, and it being a Friday evening, it was customary for the Headmaster to make a few comments. But rather than Professor Dumbledore standing to make the speech, the new Dean of Students, Professor McGonagall rose and took the podium. The speech was fairly standard. It reminded students about the out-of-bounds zones around the school grounds. It reminded the students about the curfew and the patrolling nature of the faculty and Peeves. Upperclassmen were reminded of their responsibility to the younger students. Younger students were reminded that the upperclassmen were there to help them. A visiting professor, Professor Metis was introduced to the student body. When all was said and done, it was announced that there would be a group of exchange students visiting the school for the bulk of the academic year.

Professor McGonagall turned and allowed Professor Metis to take the floor. Metis rose from the great wooden thrones, and walked to the center of the Great Hall's main aisle. She shifted her deep red cloak off one shoulder. Beneath the cloak, she wore a polished breastplate and a knee length dress. Tucked under her left arm was a helmet in Corinthian style, with alternating black-and-white bristles in the plume that ran down the crest of the helm. She extended her right arm, and with a word, a spear that had to be ten feet long if it was an inch flew from one wall and into her hand. The look upon her face was one of relaxed confidence.

With spear in hand, she spoke a single word. She didn't shout, she didn't bellow, as was the case with others that had done this before. She simply spoke a word; a word that seemed to echo and penetrate every part of the world around her. And that word was: "Attend". She stamped the butt of the spear into the stone floor… Once

Twice

Thrice

On the third strike, the doors to the hall opened. Twelve centurions marched into the hall. Each of them was identically armed with sword, shield and spear. Each of the twelve was identically armored with bronze breastplate and skirt, helm, greaves and vambraces. The twelve marched as a unit, four by three, with the butt of their spears striking the ground in unison with each pace they took. Each of the twelve bore a cloak, some bright red, some in blue and some trimmed in fur. Each step they took, they took as a group. There were no individuals; there was only the group. Upon each circular shield, was the same symbol, a heavily lacquered 'T'. The only difference between them was their size, and even then, only a few were different. They projected an utter and complete air of distance and separation from the world around them. They marched, no, paraded down the center aisle of the great hall between the rows of students. Every eye was on them and they knew it; and it fazed them not one whit of one iota.

When they reached a spot, not eight feet from Metis, they stopped. Metis nodded to them, her spear still in hand. As a single motion, twelve went to one knee; their spears still upright like a grove of steel-tipped trees. Metis nodded again. In a single action, the grove fell, the spears laying flat on the ground, perfectly aligned. In the same action, their heads bowed in a gesture of respect and submission and the palm of their right hands splayed on the flagstones. A third time, Metis nodded at them. Their heads rose, and with their free right hand, each of them removed their helmet and placed in front of them. Each of them bore the same cold expression. Each of the twelve stood ready to answer their mistress' call.

Metis turned from the group to face the other professors; professor McGonagall specifically. There wasn't a sound in the room.

"Professors and students of Hogwart's Academy, may I present to you the students of The Spartan Agoge." She made a flowing gesture regarding the students behind her.

Most of the professors sat with their mouths open, either unable to grasp what was before them, or unwilling to accept what had been dropped into their midst. Dumbledore was the first to speak, breaking the haunting silence.

"Spartans, we welcome you to Hogwarts. May your time here be fruitful."

"Spartans, what say you to your new host?" Metis called over her shoulder.

"Ah-ooh, Ah-ooh, Ah-ooh" came the battle cry.

Dinner was over. There was nothing more to be said.

End Ch1


	3. Chapter 2  Exercise

Hours had passed since the dramatic entry of the Spartans into the Hogwart's Great Hall. Luggage had been transported to various rooms. Both the male's and female's dormitories contributed two rooms to the visitors. In both cases, the rooms were adjacent. The Spartans would sleep three to a room. For them, it would be luxurious quarters. The house elves were forbidden from entering a Spartan room, owning to the Spartan's 'request' to keep their weapons and armor close at hand. It was logical to forbid the house elves from entering; after all, a house elf may suddenly find itself on the business end of a Spartan Spear.

In the girl's dormitory the presence of the Spartans was beginning to have some effect on the Hogwarts girls. Some openly gawked as the female Spartans moved their luggage about. Beautiful young ladies moved massive containers back and forth and shifted heavy oaken beds into 'better' positions. Spears, swords and shields were stacked in the center of each room, with Armor carefully hung on stands. No Spartan girl was ever without at least a dagger on her person at all times. Many carried heavy swords like their male counterparts. Occasionally, a Hogwart's girl would try and start a conversation, only to meet with a stony silence. When a Spartan female did speak, it was never to one of the Hogwart's girls, and never in English.

"So, what do you do for fun?" someone asked. No reply.

"Is all that gear for real?" a third-year asked. No reply.

"Your hair is beautiful. How do you get it like that?" another student tried. Still no reply.

"What's the name of that big guy in your class? He looks yummy." A fifth year asked. Bingo. Someone had hit Asaria's hot button. Someone was taking an interest in HER partner; and that was simply not acceptable. Asaria stopped what she was doing, and began walking toward the fifth-year student with murderous intent. Iponia was nearby and saw Asaria on the move with blood in her eyes and a target in her sights. Iponia leapt and grabbed Asaria from behind and threw her to the ground. Iponia looked Asaria in the eye while standing with her foot firmly planted in Asaria's chest. Iponia waited a moment. She glanced at the fifth-year student and gave her the universal 'you had better leave' glance. The fifth-year correctly translated the glance and left. Iponia looked down at her friend and classmate and shook her head.

"Did we already forget the first rule?" Iponia hissed in Greek.

When finally the unpacking was completed, it was well past lights-out. The halls were dark and quiet. Everything was in its place. In the wee hours of the morning, a professor on patrol walked through the girl's dormitory. She was on the lookout for students that were outside their dorm rooms due to insomnia or due to mischievous intent. Every school has its hazing rituals for new students. And Hogwart's was no different. As the globe of light from the professor's lantern traveled up and down the hallways, all was well. There were none of the highly ritualized hazings in sight. The professor would never know how close she had come to a severe beating at the hands of the Spartan sentry hidden in the shadows, keeping watch over her classmates while they slept.

Saturday

7:30-ish AM

Mornings are usually an interesting time at Hogwart's. People waking up, people beginning their day, the smell of breakfast wafting up from the great hall, Birds singing and sun shining, people stretching and showering to start the new day; the sounds of hand-to-hand combat in the central courtyard… wait, what?

This particular Saturday morning, the early risers were treated to the sight of twelve Spartans doing their best to beat each other senseless. Students and staff alike crowded around the small grassy courtyard, watching as young Spartans fought. Some were armed with sticks and wooden spears. Some bore wooden swords and clubs. And a few fought each other armed only with leather gloves. What was transpiring was no mock battle. There more were bruises and bloodied lips and noses than could be comfortably counted. Sweat was flying as impacts forced guttural sounds from their bodies. After witnessing the violence for some time, a hold was called, and the students paused to rest and rehydrate. Some of the Hogwart's students had drifted off, appalled by the violence before them. Some had stayed to watch with perverse fascination. And some had stayed to watch the physical specimens clad in nothing more than shorts and sports bras display themselves like so much meat.

"Ursus," Equis walked over to the giant. "Looks like you've already got a few admirers." Ursus glanced over his shoulder at the twin girls standing at the edge of the courtyard. They were giggling and turned away when he looked at them. Ursus turned back toward Equis.

"I don't need admirers. I've already got one." Ursus smiled at his friend.

"Be serious. A big guy like you? You can't be tied down with just one partner. You need to spread your wings, get out there, have some fun, embrace this new society and… and…" Equis noted the look on his classmate's face. "And Asaria is standing behind me, isn't she?" Ursus nodded slowly. 'Aw… Hades' was the last thing Equis thought before a wooden training spear caught him at the base of the skull, and the ground raced up to meet his face.

The hand-to-hand training continued for another thirty minutes, culminating into a massive free-for-all. It was difficult to determine the rules, but with the degree of shouting laughter being generated, it was clear that they were having fun. It was also clear that some of the students were better able to work together as a team than others. Ursus was throwing the smaller students around as if they were rag-dolls. At his back was Equis making short work of those that tried an indirect attack. When it was over, the Spartans collected their tools and weapons. They began to move in an orderly line down the path towards the lake. Some of the Hogwart's students followed them, more out of curiosity than anything else.

At the lake's edge, the Spartans began to undress. Within moments, there were twelve nude (not naked. Never naked.) Spartans bathing in the lake. They washed and bathed and cavorted like 'normal' people would in a pool or a spa. They washed each other; they assisted each other in the unbraiding and rebraiding of their hair. They shaved. In all their activities, there was never a hint of sexuality or sexual tension. Their overseer watched carefully; spear in hand, from a nearby rock. Some Hogwart's students were appalled, some were confused and some were aroused. When the Spartans were clean to their own satisfaction, the group wrapped themselves in towels and marched themselves toward the dormitories. A single Spartan remained for a moment. He drew his sword and touched the tip into the water. With a whispered word, the soap and foam left behind vanished.

_Dear Diary,_

_Oh my god. That's all I have to say. Oh my god. Yesterday, Hogwart's got a group of exchange from some academy in Greece. They're all big and buff and the girls are hot. No, wait. They're beyond buff and beyond hot. My god. Then this morning, I stood and watched them practice. They beat each other up for over an hour. That was after they did ALL sorts of stretching and exercising. All those perfect bodies out there, glistening in the morning sunshine. They all just looked soooooo yummy out there. And all the boys were wearing was a pair of shorts. Tight little shorts. You could almost see everything. And I say ALMOST, because when they were done, all of them, boys and girls, went down to the lake and stripped naked and started bathing in the lake. I was hidden behind a rock with Padma, and I saw everything. Padma's eyes got as big as saucers when they did that. I'll bet mine got big too. And starting Monday, I have classes with some of them. Oh my god I hope nobody tells them to dress for class. I think I'm in love. _

Monday morning began as it should. There was a new routine in place, whether or not anyone noticed, it was there. The Spartans exercised and bathed in the lake. Every other day they substituted their beatings with runs around the lake. Classes began and classes ended. The Spartans had presented no significant disruptions to the normal flow of learning. They blended in quite well. Were it not for the fact that they wore different uniforms, no one would have known they were there.

It was on the fifth day's morning exercises that one of the professors had had enough. The Spartans had completed their daily exercise regimen, and were in the lake. They were sitting on rocks in the cool September morning air. Some were still bathing some were just sitting and talking. It was their moment of togetherness before the academic day began. It was Friday; the end of their first week at Hogwart's Academy. Everything was going well, until now.

As they bathed, Metis stood watch like always. She glanced up, past the ever-present crowd of onlookers and gawkers to see two professors and a man in a suit storming down the path toward the lake. Metis rose to meet them. As they continued their approach, Metis gripped her spear in both hands and stood in the center of the path, blocking the approaching professors from the lake and protecting her students from the outsiders.

"Professor Metis," the man in the suit demanded, "I insist that you stop this blatant exploitation and exhibition of your students."

"Their behavior is completely unacceptable." Dean McGonagall gestured toward the naked Spartans. "Public displays of nudity and overt sexuality are strictly forbidden by the Rules of Conduct and Dress at Hogwart's.

"And what would you have them do? Your 'bathing room', and I do use that term disparagingly, consists of nothing more than shower stall. You have no civilized bathing facilities whatsoever. This lake is the closest thing we have access to that allows us time to center ourselves and to prepare for the day. It is a far cry from the bath and spa we are accustomed to, but we are going to adapt and make use of whatever facilities we can find." Metis was getting on a roll, and was about to relate the inadequacies she had detected at the school, but Metis self-edited herself and stopped.

McGonagall began shouting about how improper the Spartans were in their appearance and how Hogwart's was placing every luxury the school had at their discretion. The man in the suit began ranting about how the Spartans had no sense of modesty and how their mere presence was causing disruptions of the school's institutional regimen. Unfortunately, they were both ranting and shouting at exactly the same time. After listening to the shouting and ranting for several minutes, a voice of reason (such as it was) spoke up. It was professor Snape.

"As adults, we should be able to handle this, shouldn't we? It seems to me that a simple concession would be in order."

"And what would you propose, professor?" McGonagall asked.

"As I understand it, the Gryffindor Prefect's Bath is not only just down the hall from where our guests are. And it has the large bathing capacity that Professor Metis seems to be describing. If we were to give over that bath for an hour or two per day, it could very well solve all of the concerns that have been brought forth by both the Ministry and by the staff at Hogwart's"

"And what would we be saying if we allowed these nudists to go behind closed doors? We would be allowing them to perform whatever acts of deviancy they wished." The advisor from the Ministry began to puff.

"Very well, we will assign a professor, or other suitable individual to oversee their time in the baths. Would that be acceptable?"

The Ministry man considered the offer. "For now. But rest assured I WILL be keeping a sharp eye on all of this nonsense."

Metis stared at Snape. Looking him over for some form of deception. When Snape and the other two left, his head was still attached. Apparently Metis believed him.

Later that evening, deep in the library, Hermione Granger was surrounded by books. While this, in and of itself was not unusual, the topics were. She had requested books on what little history of the Agoge there was to be had. Not that there was much. How do you gain an edge on something through research when there simply isn't anything written about it? _Stupid rhetorical question_. Giving pause, rather than beat her forehead into the table out of frustration, Hermione decided that a brief walk around the library to stretch her legs might give her the time to get a new perspective. Hopefully a perspective that would prevent her from mugging and interrogating one of the new students.

Of all the fragments she had collected from other students, most fascinating seemed to be Professor Metis' almost psychotic preoccupation with eggs. Some students, that happened to be residing in the boys' dormitory had heard the professor comment on the subject of painted eggs. Some of them joked about it, some simply ignored it. But the fact that the professor had made such a big deal about reminding the boys not to paint eggs made it quite a mystery. And an interesting one at that. The only references to painted eggs were in tales of ceremonies from the early Eastern Orthodox Church and the observances of Easter feasts and celebrations. Nothing more.

In the few classes Hermione had with Spartans, she had found their use of language to be odd at times. Nothing significant, really. Most likely the effect of a Babel charm mistranslating a word or approximating a word.

A fresh cup of pumpkin juice later, Hermione found herself back at what had become her personal desk in the library. Only it wasn't how she left it. Her books and note taking materials were there, but two books had been added to the stack. One, _A History of Magical Europe (3__rd__ edition)_. The other a battered and well-worn copy of a roman-era travel guide entitled _Sparta: The Barbarian City_.

The travel guide was in Latin and seemed to be an advertisement for Roman citizens to travel to Sparta to see the barbarian Spartans living in their own little world. Basically a tourist trap for Romans. [Author's note: This book actually existed. It was printed somewhere before 146bc.

It was the other book that was interesting. Hermione had read the history of magical Europe several times before. It was just that she'd never seen a copy this old. The version the school had was at least in its 40th edition, and it was becoming outdated. What kind of information was in this that wasn't in the school's edition. And who put the books here in the first place? Maybe she was just getting tired. Then again, maybe someone was trying to tell her something.

Nearly a month into their stay something happened that earned a raised eyebrow and a slight smile from the Spartans. Promptly at 6:30, the Spartans assembled in the courtyard as they had done every morning. Three rows of four Spartans stood with military precision, as they had every morning. This morning, however it was different. This morning there was a fourth row. The four members of the Gryffindor's Quidditch team stood in the back row clad in workout shorts, t-shirt and sneakers. It was a colorful difference between them and the Spartans, clad only in gun-metal gray shorts and halter tops, with their bare feet gripping the grass and earth beneath them.

The stretching began. With the addition of the fourth row, a leader was required for the stretching. Metis stood before the group and led the group, calling out and counting cadence for each stretch. The Spartans were capable of doing the exercise in perfect sync without a leader; they'd been doing it from an age of six. But today was special, and for the uninitiated, there must be a leader. Every stretch was performed as a group. And then the calisthenics began. With military precision, exercises were performed. They were done with such intensity that at the end of the first thirty-minute session, the Quidditch team was already starting to become winded. The players could hear half-whispered comments coming from the ranks ahead of them. Then the call to assume the 'first position' came, the Quidditch team looked confused. A quick glance around gave them an idea of what they were supposed to do. The call came to move to the next position, and when they weren't quite in the correct position, suddenly there was a set of hands making subtle corrections to their position. The same happened through all eight of the positions. By the time it was time to return to the first position, there were gaps in the formation. Students had been tapped by their leader to move to the last row, in order to assist those that didn't know. The moves came faster and faster, forming a rhythm of their own. Soon enough (too soon for some), the katas stopped. The students in the courtyard were paired up and they moved to well-separated spots around the courtyard.

By now it was 7:30. The break for water had been called. Some of the quidditch players looked like they were ready to keel over from exertion. The Spartans made sure that they drank. The water had an odd taste to it, but it quenched thirst almost immediately. As they drank, some of the Spartans made comments to them. It was odd, but the comments were always in Greek. When they spoke in class and amongst others, they spoke English, but with each other, it was Greek. The tone wasn't insulting or demeaning, but rather it was encouraging. Whatever it was the Spartan had said, it was meant to be encouraging. Someone clapped Harry on the back, causing him to spray water on the ground; several of the Spartans laughed, as did the other Quidditch players. Metis shouted something. Clearly break time was over. As the players went off to find the Spartan they had been paired with, Harry glanced up at the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle. He saw the usual gaggle of people that seemed to enjoy watching the Spartan training sessions, and there, standing at one of the archways were his friends. There was Ron, there were the Patel twins, there was Luna, and standing at the end with a concerned look, was Hermione. He was about to smile at them when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Harry glanced back, and looked into the eyes of a young woman. A rather attractive, black-haired girl. A girl that had a rather intense and unnerving look of determination in her eyes. She pulled him down into a crouch; into a fighting stance. She took two fingers and pointed at his eyes, and then at hers. 'Pay Attention. Look at me.' She took his hand and curled it into a proper fist. She stepped back a half-step and nodded. That was his signal to swing. Harry swung at her. She deflected the blow with ease and grace. She nodded again and Harry swung again. And again the blow was blocked. Nod, swing, block. Nod, swing, block. Nod swing block. Harry even tried varying the swings he was using. But every time he swung, it was blocked. Harry heard a thud and a groan off to his right. One of the quidditch players was lying on his chest, his arm sticking straight up with a Spartan male attached to it twisting the arm into an unnatural position. It was at that moment Harry realized he had made a mistake. His head spun back around, and was met by an open palm striking him squarely in the chest, propelling him back onto his ass. The woman sighed and shook her finger at him, silently admonishing him for not paying attention. She stepped back away from Harry and waited.

"C'mon, get back up! Don't give them the satisfaction!" someone in the gallery shouted.

The woman said something to him in Greek. Whatever it was, she was dissatisfied with his performance and was taunting him. Harry picked himself off the ground and looked her dead in the eye.

"That won't happen again." He muttered.

She muttered something back at him. Something that didn't sound polite.

The woman stood more upright and pointed at her chest. 'Hit me here.'

Harry swung and connected. The woman flinched, then took hold of Harry's hand and showed him the proper way to swing and connect. She nodded, he swung and connected. Nod, swing, connect. Nod, swing, connect. Nod, swing, connect. She taught him exactly what to do. After what seemed an eternity of this, she held up one hand and brushed off her chest. She assumed a slightly different posture and nodded again. This time, when Harry swung, the woman sidestepped, took hold of Harry's wrist as it came by and threw him face first into the grass. Before he had fully come to rest on the ground, the woman was kneeling across his back with her hands gripping his head and throat in a chokehold. She leaned in and whispered huskily into his ear; in English.

"Confidence, not arrogance. Rule One." With that, she stepped off and allowed Harry to get to his feet.

When Harry rose, Professor Metis was standing there. A faint smile was on her lips. "Still with us, Potter?" It was a rhetorical question, but Harry tried to answer anyway. "Er… umm… yeah. I suppose so."

"Good." Metis shouted "Assemble" to the group, and the group did just that. The quidditch players were nearing exhaustion, but they joined the ranks of the Spartans nonetheless. Metis shouted to the group. As one, they reassembled into two rows and turned right. The Hogwart's students somehow were placed in the middle of the group. With a shout, the group began to run. It was a gentle pace, somewhere near a jog. Certainly not the near sprint the Spartans had been seen performing in days past. But it was a comfortable pace.

Somewhere around the two-mile mark, Harry could feel his chest starting to burn. His legs were starting to burn, he wanted to drop. Harry knew the dirt path they were following and he knew where it led. He even knew how long the Spartans ran for each day. They weren't even close to the end of the run. Another mile passed beneath his feet before he noticed the look on the face of one of his teammates. Apparently at least one of the Spartans noticed as well. Some of them began to slow down and others sped up. Each member of the quidditch team suddenly had a Spartan on either side of them. The Spartans began to shout encouragements at the other students.

"C'mon, don't quit!!"

"Just a little further!"

"You can do it!"

"Don't let your teammates down!"

"You're doing great!"

"Don't make me have to carry you!"

"We're turning around! You only have to run back!"

"For the honor of your house!"

"Courage!"

"Look forward, not down!"

"You have a cute ass, don't make me kick it!" Harry could swear he heard that one. He wasn't even sure if it was directed at him. But there it was.

"I know you can do better!"

"Push yourself!"

When one of the group, Spartan or Hogwarts (mostly Hogwarts, to be honest) began to falter, someone was there to keep them from falling.

Metis must have been feeling merciful today. At the end of a mere six miles or so, the group had returned to the courtyard from which they had begun. As they had begun their final sprint to the end, cheers had gone up from the Hogwarts students that had waited. The rows of Spartans and guests continued to walk a brisk but slowing pace as their hearts began to return to normal. When the group stopped, and there was a guarantee that no one would keel over from cardiac arrest, Metis shouted, and the group returned to their original four rows. But this time, the Gryffindor team was in the third row, rather than the last. Metis looked over the group for a moment, and then gestured to the class leader, Iponia. Iponia tossed a heavy bronze spear, which Metis caught in mid flight.

Spear in hand, Metis took a position in front of the group and began to smile at her charges. She spoke in Greek, but a quick flick of the wrist and a Babel charm was in place translating every word as best it could.

"Spartans and courageous members of Hogwart's Academy. A new chapter has begun. There are new members of the group. New students that must be taught, new members that must learn what it is to be Spartan. They have already demonstrated the courage to take the first step; and they did it voluntarily. They are not yet wolves, but they will become so. Not by my hand, but by yours. What say you?" She may have begun at a good speaking volume, but by the time she ended, Metis was nearly shouting. But it was nothing compared to the Spartan's response.

"Aah-ooo" they chanted at a deafening volume. The energy of the group was becoming palpable. Harry could feel his heart racing.

"And now our new members must be properly welcomed into the fold." She paused and smiled before shouting a single word. "GET THEM!" she shouted.

For less than an instant, no one moved. Harry was confused. He didn't understand what she meant. Then, without warning, someone had their hands on his shoulders. Someone put their shoulder into his midsection. There were hands and feet everywhere. Harry and the other team members were being tackled and pummeled. Then, with no warning the four quidditch players were hoisted up onto shoulders like great sacks, or were tucked under people's arms. Harry caught a glimpse of the team's rather beefy beater being slung over the shoulder of a giant of a Spartan. In his defense, the beater was trying to make his escape, but when a walking tower of a man has you in a restraining hold, there's very little you can do. As Harry was finding out.

The procession of cheering Spartans and their victims paraded out of the training area and down a path. The path led only one place: The Lake. There was cheering and shouting as the group tromped their way down the path. Harry caught a glimpse of the Hogwart's onlookers trying to follow, but they were suddenly stopped by a mid-sized and very fierce Spartan with a spear that was keeping them at bay. Even from his less than useful vantage point, Harry could see his friends at the front of the gaggle of onlookers, all displaying a degree of concern. They had all seen what these students were capable of. And if they had some bizarre and barbaric ceremony to perform, it would certainly involve pain and abuse.

Finally, the group reached the boulder strewn edge of the lake. The shouting had been building as they approached. But when they reached the rocky edge, the Spartans fell silent. Ursus, the giant Spartan, picked Peakes, the beater, up above his head; hoisting him up like a pro-wrestler. There was showmanship as Ursus spun him around a few times before throwing Peakes out into the lake. The Spartans cheered. Ursus turned toward Harry and repeated the process. The lake was freezing. The sheer shock of the impact and the cold water quite literally took his breath away. By the time Harry surfaced, all four of the quidditch team members were in the water. Watching Jimmy Peakes and Dean Thomas soaked and sputtering as they came to the surface was one thing, but Ginny Weasley in a short and wet uniform, now clinging to her body displaying every curve and ridge and valley and… peak, was quite another.

Peakes was the first to try and get out of the water. He'd made it up onto one of the rocks before he was pushed back in. Harry thought it was pretty funny until that same black-haired woman that he had been fighting earlier was standing in front of him. All he could think of was: _Oh god, she's going to drown me_. As he looked around, he noticed that all the Spartans were getting into the water.

The girl was standing next to him. Her face had something not quite a devilish smile on it. Almost a wry smile, but not quite. She stood in front of him, examining him, for what he didn't know. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle push. "Turn around." Harry had little choice. "Sit." She ordered. Harry sat. He could hear her moving in the water behind him. "Arms up." Now Harry was getting worried. Suddenly, there were two hands at his midsection. They gripped the bottom hem of his soaked exercise shirt and pulled it over his head. He heard it land on the shore with a wet slap. Harry kept his eyes tightly closed. Off in the distance, he could hear other shirts going splat on the rocks. That would mean… No, think about something else. The water lapped at his midsection, but he could feel the water changing from the cold autumn water into warm and then almost hot waters. As he sat in the water, he began to relax. And then something happened. He felt hands on his back. And a coarse cloth. He was being… washed? Bathed? Whatever the word for it was, it was happening. He could feel the girl's hands at his back, scrubbing and working to ease the kinks out his muscles.

"You're Potter, right?" She asked him while working on the stiff muscles in his neck.

"Yes."

"Nyx."

"A pleasure to meet you, Nyx."

She continued to scrub for a few moments. Then Harry felt her stop. Was it over? What happened next? Then he found out exactly what happened next. A very large bucket of water was poured over him.

"Welcome to the family, Tradesman. Anything else you want me to scrub for you?" When Harry failed to answer in a few seconds, she smiled and gave him a swat on the back of the head as she stood up and walked to shore.

"Wha?" was all he got out before the towel hit him. He glanced over at his teammates and found them wading ashore, wrapped in towels. Ginny still had a bit of a blush on her face, but looked pretty good (All things considering.)

As the group walked up the path back towards the school, the Spartan giant, Ursus walked up behind two of the quidditch team members and put his enormous arms around their shoulders.

"See you in the morning. Don't make me come get you. Or I will be forced to amuse myself with your sleeping forms." Ursus bellowed a laugh that was jovial and frightening at the same time.

Harry Glanced at his teammates. Universally they all had the same expression: _What have we got ourselves into?_

From a window above the courtyard, a figure watched the procession. Now it was time to start testing them for weaknesses. Everyone had weaknesses. He would find them. This would be easier than infiltrating that OTHER school. And they fell to the darkness oh, so easily.


	4. Chapter 3 School Daze 1

Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own any of this. I'm not making any money off this.

Chapter 3—School Daze.

Mid-October had arrived at Hogwart's. The leaves were turning colors, and there was a chill in the air. Preparations were underway for the Halloween Feast, and everything was going well, if a bit strained. Odd occurrences and inexplicable events had increased in frequency over the past month, but as none had become life-threatening or dangerous, they were chalked up to being within the range of what passed for 'normal' at the academy.

The weekly staff meeting of the faculty of Hogwart's was supposed to alleviate stress, solve problems and deal with minor issues and goings-on at the school. But some things are universal, and like all staff meetings worldwide, this one accomplished absolutely none of this.

"Item number twenty-six on the agenda," Professor Twycross intoned over the groans and mumblings of the other professors present, "has to do with a disturbing trend among the students. It has come to my attention, via various routes, that the number of incidences of… 'physical contact' between students has increased dramatically since the beginning of the school year, and is continuing to rise despite disciplinary efforts. If these trends continue, we may be forced to institute the use of various charms and wards in order to maintain control of the student body." It was clear that the professor was uncomfortable with the subject and that he was doing his level best to maintain some degree of decorum.

"Physical Contact? Exactly what kind of Physical Contact are we talking about? The Spartans are on their best behavior and haven't beaten or broken anyone other than themselves (pause) and the occasional willing participant." Professor Metis began in protest. There were a few minor chuckles from around the table.

"I am referring to BLATANT physical contact that is expressly forbidden in the Student's Handbook and Code of Conduct."

People looked at professor Twycross with a degree of confusion. Through gritted teeth and an angry pseudo-whisper,

"I'm talking about inter-digital manipulation and blatant incidences of osculation."

The other professors were still looking at him, not quite understanding.

(Sigh) "The students are openly holding hands, hugging each other and (shudder) kissing. Merlin only knows what else they're doing when we aren't watching them."

Some professors openly groaned. Some shook their heads. A few had to stifle a laugh.

"How prevalent are these 'incidences' becoming, professor?" Dean McGonnagal asked.

"Even if we were to discount the activities of the Spartans and their lack of discretion at the beginning of the year," Twycross began, attempting to stare a measure of shame into Metis to no effect, "the number of incidences in the past six weeks has already matched the total number of incidences for the past academic year."

"I'm sure that this is simply a fluke brought upon by teenage hormones and the presence of new students that tend to be overtly physical in their activities. We shall take steps to resolve the situation, but I'm sure we can all agree that there shouldn't be a need to go about casting charms, putting up wards or adding supplements the student's diet. Next item please." Dean McGonnagal commented as she waved her hand, indicating it was time to move on.

"Item number twenty-seven. (grumble grumble) There are reports of insomnia and poor sleep due to, and I quote 'a weird buzzing noise'. The insomnia seems to be affecting students of all four houses. Initial inquiries have been made, but so far the source has remained elusive." Twycross read from the agenda.

"Mister Filch. If you or Hagrid would be so kind as to investigate this, I'm sure it can be resolved without devoting excessive resources. Next item." Dean McGonnagal was becoming irritated with the never-ending lists of things to do. It was becoming obvious why Headmaster Dumbledore had delegated this position to her: He secretly hated her, and this was his way of driving her mad. She chuckled at the thought.

"Actually, professor, this item has been voiced to me by some of my students." Professor Metis commented. "Four of my six female students have reported the noise and their inability to get a decent night's sleep. The other two have displayed the ability to sleep through an earthquake, and as such could not comment on the noises. With your permission, I believe that my students may be able to solve their own problem, thereby allowing Misters Hagrid and Filch to devote their energies elsewhere."

"So be it. The search for the source of the noise will go on, under the direction of Mister Hagrid and Mister Filch. And, professor Metis, I do not want to see a collection of tents on the school grounds. Next item."

"No tents on the school grounds. Yes, Headmistress." Metis said calmly.

"Item Twenty-eight. A complaint against Professor Metis made by Professor Snape." Metis and several other professors looked aghast at the professor.

"Something you want to say to me?" Metis asked. She was less than an instant away from leaping across the table and strangling Professor Snape with his own entrails.

"Only that you have been deliberately ignoring my requests for both information and access to your students since you arrived."

"So what would you like me to do to alleviate your concerns? Parade my students naked through your office?"

"Hardly. But tomorrow the third-year students will be receiving their first hand-on demonstration on the art of dueling. I would appreciate if some of your students could be present. Simply to illustrate the different style and form that your people use." Snape smirked.

"We don't duel. We do not have a history or a tradition of magical dueling at the Agoge." Metis replied coldly.

"A pity. But if we cannot resolve this situation, the complaint will stand in the ministry's records; and that would be a black mark against not only you but against your school as well."

Metis knew when she had been out-maneuvered. The only solution now was to confront the issue head-on. To be honest, she was impressed at how long it took for these people to start their attacks.

"The Spartans will be there." _May you get exactly what you ask for_.

"Are there any other issues, professor Snape?"

Snape shook his head.

"Next item."

"Item twenty-nine…" The staff meeting continued much to the chagrin for all involved.

That evening, dinner was served in the great hall like always. The Spartans sat in their little huddle at the end of the Gryphondor table. They sat and ate like every other student clique. Theirs just happened to be a little more insular and a little exclusive.

"You should go down there and sit with them. Make the first move." Ron may have been encouraging his friend, but he definitely wasn't helping.

"They just started accepting me at their morning exercises. They haven't even invited me to their evening exercises." Harry replied trying to hide behind his dinner.

"Yes, but they named you." Hermione added energetically. Her friends looked at her with a distinct lack of understanding. She responded by giving them a look like they had just drooled on themselves. _Why do I surround myself with such idiots?_ Hermione sighed.

"They worked you until you were ready to drop. You didn't. They beat you, but you kept coming back for more. When it was all done, they threw you into the water and bathed you. And when it was all over, they gave you a name. Something similar to your real name, right? Did I miss something?"

Harry looked at her with his mouth open. "Where… how did you know all this?"

"Close your mouth. You're attracting flies. I read it. Its Spartan tradition; like hazing a new student. The older students work the younger students over until they're ready to drop, and when they're finished, if the younger student keeps coming back, they take care of him. Your hair's too short," she reached across the table and mussed Harry's hair. "Otherwise they would have put it into a braid." All three of them glanced down the table to where Ginny was sitting. Her hair was still pulled back into a single braid, marking her. "And then finally they give him a temporary name until they can find a name that suits him." Hermione leaned back with a self-satisfied look on her face. "And they even named Ginny."

Ron looked concerned. "What do they call her?"

"It isn't anything bad. She said that they called her '_Purrias_'. It simply means 'Red-haired'."

"And what happens next? I mean what do they do to their new members after all that? Do they have ritual tattooing or branding or something else?" Ron asked, partly out of concern for his friend and partly out of concern for his sister.

"Ummm, I'm not really sure. The legends and accounts on Spartan tradition are a little hazy."

"So what it sounds like you're telling me is that the four of us should be on our guard." Harry said, starting to sound a bit nervous.

"The four of you, plus anyone else they 'invite' to join them. By their rules and standards, you belong to them now. You're expected to protect the group, just like the group is expected to take care of and protect you. Merlin help anyone stupid enough to make an attack on you."

"Point taken. I think…" Harry didn't finish the sentence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw motion. A stout, redheaded boy wearing Slytherin robes was walking towards the Spartan end of the table.

Gregory Goyle had finally decided to make his move and prove himself worthy of real respect in the Slytherin household. He had simply stood up and begun walking down the aisle calmly and casually. Every few seconds, he would glance back at his compatriots, gaining more and more confidence from them. When he was in line with the end of the Gryphondors, he paused, glanced at his friends one last time, and then made his move. Goyle simply walked across the aisle and stood behind the Spartans. The Spartans continued talking amongst themselves for a few moments. Goyle stood there with what would pass as a friendly smile among Slytherin, but looked more like a malicious sneer to everyone else. The Spartans simply stared at him. As he stood there, Iponia returned with a bowl filled with large pieces of cut bread. Iponia set the bowl down cautiously, looking at Goyle with suspicion. Goyle nodded and smiled at all the Spartans. They sat there looking at him with what could only be described as a stony stare. Seconds ticked by. Goyle kept nodding and smiling; Spartans kept staring.

Finally Goyle acted. He eyed the bowl of bread, mustering his courage. He took a step closer. Placing his hand on the shoulder of Equis, and muttering a "Pardon me" he reached between Equis and Ursus and simply took a piece of bread. While he was still reaching, the two young men started to stand. One began to reach for the invader's wrist. Iponia's gaze suddenly locked eyes on the two and she gave them a subtle gesture: "Sit" she wordlessly commanded. Goyle chuckled to himself as he returned to his group of friends. Gregory Goyle had run the gauntlet. He had stood before the Spartans. He had stolen food from the Spartans. And he had returned to tell the tale. He had become a hero amongst his kin.

Iponia looked at her compatriots as she sat down. She calmly picked up her cup and as she leisurely took a sip, she shook her head.

"Apparently he does not understand the concept of property and boundaries. Someone should help him to understand." Iponia smiled.

Equis smiled and swatted his friend on the chest. "Object lessons are always important, don't you agree, friend Ursus?"

"Of course, friend Equis. Very important. Wouldn't you agree, friend Kopis?" Ursus was beginning to chuckle. Kopis was impressed that he was being invited to 'instruct' someone. The underclassman smiled and nodded. "Teaching is very important, friend Ursus. We must help them to understand."

Iponia heard the escalation in their banter. "No breaking of bones; only spirit."

"Yes, Iponia." The threesome chorused. And then they smiled. Nothing more was said regarding the fate of Mister Goyle.

Hours later, in the dead of night, deep within the Slytherin dormitory, Gregory Goyle was still relishing in his victory. In his dreams, his victory became greater and greater. In his own mind, his heroism was earning him the laurels and accolades of his brethren. Sometime around three, he heard his roommate, Vincent Crabbe, had got up to use the lavatory. A few moments later, Goyle was shaken awake. Through sleep-clouded eyes, he saw three smiling faces.

"Good morning, _lapê_. Time to learn." One of them grinned. Goyle had enough time to get out a 'wh' sound before he was restrained and blissfully returned to unconsciousness. When Crabbe returned from the lavatory, his roommate was nowhere to be found.

When the sun rose the next morning, Vincent Crabbe shouted for his roommate to wake up, but there was no response. When he went to investigate, he found Goyle's bed empty. Not being the brightest of individuals, Crabbe was concerned, but not overly worried. That was until the screaming started.

The screams emanated from beyond the doors that no male could open. Professor Snape, the head of the house was the only exception, and his response to the screams was exemplary. Crashing through the door to the girl's bathroom, Snape found Pansy Parkinson clutching at her bathrobe and screaming at the top of her lungs.

"What's the problem?" Snape half shouted, partially gasping from his sprint and door-crashing exertions.

Pansy pointed at the shower stall's door, and continued babbling incoherently between screams.

Snape took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. Pansy took a deep breath.

"There. In there. He…he…he…"

Snape looked at her and then glanced over his shoulder at the stall door. Snape released her, and began to move toward the shower. Cautiously, he drew his wand, steeling himself for whatever was inside. With his free hand, Snape flung open the shower door. Tied to the shower head by his wrists, trussed up like a Christmas goose, was Gregory Goyle.

It was at that moment, Pansy found her voice.

"HE SAW ME NAKED!!!" She shouted.

The gallery of onlookers that hadn't made it past the splinters of the door began to chuckle and laugh. Snape leaned down and removed the gag from Goyle's mouth.

"They did this. They kidnapped me. They tied me up and stuck me here. Something has to be done about those psychopaths." Goyle was ranting as he was cut loose.

"Who did this?" Snape asked, half knowing the answer.

"Those damnable Spartans. They broke into my room and… and…" Goyle stammered as Snape cut the last of his bindings.

"Go back to your room, get dressed. I'll handle this."

"But what about me?" Pansy whined. "He saw me naked!"

Snape eyed her up and down in that detached manner he has.

"So has everyone else."

And with that he walked away.

Immediately following breakfast, but prior to the first teaching period of the day, Metis was summoned to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. Much like an errant child, she dreaded the walk to his office. When she arrived, she was met by Dean McGonagall and Professor Snape. And when she arrived, Snape was already ranting. Dumbledore gestured for Metis to sit, without interrupting Snape.

Snape was furious. He was relating the events of the morning with regards to Gregory Goyle. When he had finished, both the Dean and Headmaster stared in disbelief.

"You mean to tell me," Dumbledore began, "That no less than three Spartans, who are ancillary members of a different house, located the secret entrance to the Slytherin dormitory. And then they got past whatever security measures, wards and charms you placed on the door in addition to getting past your house ghost. Then they were able to sneak past all the other rooms, break into a dormitory room, and in the brief time Mister Crabbe was in the lavatory, kidnap Mister Goyle, move him down the hall and into a room that has been charmed such that no male save for faculty can enter, tie him up and then make their way back out, all without alerting anyone to their presence."

"When you put it like that, it does seem rather unlikely. But in a word sir, yes." Snape grumbled. "And she told them to do it." Snape exclaimed, pointing at Metis.

Metis cocked an eyebrow. Dumbledore was about to speak when Metis answered Snape's accusations.

"You seem to have an image that my students are capable of a great many things. And while I appreciate the confidence you seem to have in their abilities, I can assure you that none of my boys have the capabilities you have mentioned."

"Professor Metis is correct. With the charms and wards Slytherin employs, it would be effectively impossible for anyone to move like that." Dean McGonagall added. "And since there is no real evidence to contradict Professor Metis' statement, this event will simply be attributed to 'Poltergeist Activity' and be left at that."

Snape grumbled a response while casting an icy glare toward Metis. Metis, on the other hand, took an apple from the fruit basket, and before biting into it, looked at Snape cheerfully and said, "No harm done, Professor Snape. After all, there's no reason we can't all be civil about this."

Deep in the bowels of Hogwart's Academy, classes were being taught. The second instructional period of the day had begun. This particular day, one professor had made a highly specific request. A request bordering on a demand. Snape had requested (i.e. connived and weaseled) the presence of Metis and a representative of her students to attend one of his lectures.

"You realize, of course, we're being baited." Nyx muttered under her breath.

"Nyx… Of course I do. I know it, you know it and the headmistress knows it. And since we all know it, and that sanctimonious healot of a professor knows it, it should keep things interesting." Asaria told her friend, as she adjusted her sword belt and cloak.

A few moments later, Metis, Asaria and Nyx strode into the classroom. There was the normal assortment of students, third and fourth year mostly, but there was also an assortment of the sixth and seventh year students. As well as a few professors and ministry officials that had decided to view today's demonstrational lesson.

"Aah, professor Metis. Welcome. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to attend." Snape welcomed the three ladies with his annoyingly dry wit.

"We wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world." Metis replied.

"I was just discussing with the class the concept of the universality of dueling within the mage's world. If you would be so kind, professor, to tell the class exactly how your people handle the strict, honor-bound code of dueling."

"We don't duel." Metis replied through an exasperated frown. "It's a pointless activity that has no use or merit."

Snape frowned. "What a pity. Is it because you don't see the honor in it? Is it because you have nothing to fight for? Or is it simply that you lack the self confidence and courage to test yourself against another." Snape was getting smug; annoyingly smug. His audience was starting to get the impression that there wouldn't be a duel. The observers for the forces of darkness that had situated themselves in the audience continued to take notes.

"And what if I were to simply bring into question your courage and the validity of your civilization and call the lot of you a group of barbaric cowards?" Snape made a final push, trying to invoke as much of a response as possible.

Metis stood her ground. She smiled politely and turned to Asaria: "Hurt him." Asaria nodded with a smile upon her face.

With a gentle leap, Asaria stepped up and onto the dueling platform. Snape selected one of his students seemingly at random to duel. After all, a professor dueling against a student would be unheard of, and potentially dangerous.

Millicent Bulstrode stood on one end of the dais. She smiled a wicked smile at the lithe young Greek. Millicent was a member of Slytherin's Dueling club and was renowned for her ability to inflict pain and injury upon her opponents. She expected this little foreigner to be no different.

Asaria looked at Millicent, and then at Metis.

"Is your student wearing standard dueling attire?" Metis shouted toward Snape.

"Of course. All safety precautions are being followed." Snape shouted back.

"Let me have your shield and helm. We don't want to be seen as being reliant on our armor." Metis whispered. Asaria complied. When Asaria went to release her breastplate, Metis gestured for her to keep it. Asaria kneeled on the dais. Metis placed her hand on Asaria's chest and whispered to her.

"Do what must be done for the greater good."

"For the greater good." Asaria replied, mimicking the school's motto.

Asaria stood and went through a quick set of stretches designed to wake her muscles. These were followed by a quick set of katas. Millicent, on the other hand was trying hard to psych herself up for the duel. She was breathing hard and fast. She was pacing back and forth trying to make herself hot and angry enough. Millicent whipped her wand around a few times in a slashing motion getting the kinks out of her arms. Asaria simply stretched and went deeper and deeper into her routine. For the observers who had never seen the Spartans practice, the simple act of watching Asaria stretch was entertainment in and of itself.

Finally, Snape called the duelists to their positions. Millicent stood at one end, Asaria at the other.

"Bow to your most honored opponent." Snape called. The girls bowed. Millicent with a practiced flourish, Asaria with an efficient and structured motion.

"Draw you wands." Snape called. Millicent drew her wand from beneath her cloak. Its dark ebony looked even darker in this environment. Asaria drew what passed for a wand among Spartans. Her falcata fit warmly and comfortably in her hand like an old friend. The polished blade shone warmly in the sunlight. This was the first time anyone had seen what the Spartans carried as wands. Somewhere in the past twenty centuries, wands and swords had merged into one.

"Hold!" Shouted Snape. With that, everything stopped. Snape stormed toward the end of the dais where the three ladies were standing. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you brandishing that weapon? Where is your wand, young lady?"

"This is my wand, professor. It's the standard-issue wand of the Agoge." Asaria told him, not quite understanding what the problem was.

"I objected to your carrying of weapons when you first arrived, and I will not have one of my students endangered during a demonstration by the mishandling of such a weapon."

"Mishandling?" Metis interrupted. "MY students do not mishandle their wands. Kappa-year students have lived with those blades at their sides for six years or more. I would suspect that my students are more intimately familiar with their blades than any of yours are with their wands." She took a breath. "And so unless you and your dueling class want to go back to your classroom and play with your wands, I suggest you learn to adapt and tell that…that… Etruscan Chattel," Metis gestured at Millicent. "To grip her wand, point it in a useful direction and commence dueling."

Snape stood there, unsure of what to say. After a moment or three, he turned and went back to his student.

"Are you feeling alright, headmistress?" Nyx asked, concern tingeing her question.

"Lack of sleep. I'll be fine." Metis dismissed the question. "Nyx, remind me later that I need to administer discipline."

"Of course headmistress. Anyone in particular? Should I be worried?" Nyx looked concerned.

"Probably not. But time will tell." With that, Metis turned her attention back to the demonstration.

At the middle of the platform, Snape stood. The two opponents faced each other. The opening ritual was repeated.

"Bow to your honored opponent."

"Draw your wands."

"Assume dueling stance." Millicent took up her comfortable stance; feet shoulder width apart, one foot slightly ahead of the other, wand in a middle body position, held with a delicate grip. Her off hand she kept behind her back to present one less target for her opponent. Asaria stood with her sword arm craned above her head, looking like a scorpion's tail-lash, her feet were almost one in front of the other making her look more like a classical spear-thrower than a duelist. Her off-hand was cupped slightly and just below her breast.

"At the count of three, you may begin." Snape announced.

They were less than twenty feet apart. Under normal conditions, the odds of either girl missing their shot was nil.

"One" Both girls took a breath.

"Two" Each girl considered her spell.

"Three" At the word 'three', Millicent went for her standard attack. Simple, direct easy to use and guaranteed to hurt.

"_Ignato_" Millicent shouted, her wand letting forth an angry red and yellow bolt. On the opposite end of the platform, Asaria had a different plan. At the word 'three', she whispered the word '_Spaô_' and began charging toward her opponent. Asaria's sword swung downward and into the ignatus bolt. When the bolt and blade met, the sword swallowed the bolt leaving only a few stray sparks. Millicent looked stunned and started to try and recast the curse. But twenty feet is not a long distance, and a sprinting Spartan can cover that distance in a very short time. By the time the word started to form in Millicent's mouth, Asaria was in mid-flight, her sandal-clad foot had impacted Millicent's chest, and the Slytherin duelist was lying flat on her back on the padded mat just below the dais. The entire duel was over in an instant. Asaria re-sheathed her blade and stepped down off of the platform. She extended her hand to Millicent to help her up from the ground. Millicent looked at the helping hand for a moment, unsure whether to accept the gesture. When finally she did, Asaria pulled Millicent in close and embraced her warmly. "Confidence, not arrogance. Rule one." Asaria whispered into Millicent's ear. And with that, Asaria returned to her group and Millicent returned to hers.

One of the observers in the crowd took notes. Notes on Asaria's every move. Notes on how she moved and how she responded. He took notes on Metis and how she controlled her students. He took notes on every word the Spartans said to each other and to Snape. And what he was about to see nearly caused him to doubt his own eyes and question the entire structure of magic.

"Another round, professor?" Metis shouted across the room. Asaria returned to her headmistress' side.

Snape sneered and glanced at the cluster of Spartans. Asaria had proven that she was more a fighter than a duelist. Her combat skills made her a formidable foe. Metis was the assistant headmaster. Snape had heard that the Spartan instructors continued training for years, just like wizards. A duel between the two professors would be interesting but very likely bloody. Why had they brought that other girl, Nyx? As Asaria's second? Unlikely. As normal people went, Nyx was muscular and well proportioned. As far as Spartans went, she was rather on the small side both in height and build. If he called for Nyx to duel, was it a ploy? Was Nyx a better duelist? Or was she bait for some well constructed plan that opposed his own? Given time, he would discern the nature of the Spartan's plan. But now, there wasn't time. There was only one direction to go, and that was forward.

"Of course, professor. Bring up your second." Snape shouted back.

"She's an Iota, not a Kappa. I trust you'll keep that in mind."

"Of course." Snape did a quick mental calculation. Iotas were the equivalent of fifth-year students. "You" Snape pointed at a student. "Take the stage. You're dueling against her." Padma Patil looked stunned. The fact that Professor Snape was putting her up against Nyx in a demonstrational duel either meant he had faith in her ability, or he was sacrificing her to gauge Spartan abilities. She was betting on the latter.

Padma stood on the platform. She wasn't as nervous as she could have been. She was a member of Dumbledore's Army, and as such she knew some real and useful combat and defense spells. Millicent was a duelist and a brutal one at that. Padma was training to actually be able to fight effectively. Padma swore that she wouldn't be as easy a target as Millicent had been. Padma took a calming breath and steadied herself for the duel.

On the other end of the platform, Nyx stood, preparing herself for the duel. Nyx was on one knee, breathing deeply.

"Everything will be OK, Nyx. You just have to let go. Embrace it." Metis was being very maternal and reassuring toward Nyx.

"You can do this. It's just like the other night. Feel the wind, its all there for you, little sister." Asaria was gently rubbing Nyx's shoulder.

Nyx looked up at Asaria and smiled a wobbly smile. "You know I hate doing this."

"Yes, but Clio loves it. And you know it." The two students smiled at each other.

"It's time. Ready?" Metis asked. Nyx nodded. "For the greater good" Metis whispered.

Nyx stood alone at her end of the dueling platform. She could see dark-colored streamers swirling past her eyes. This was the part she hated the most. She could feel the cold gripping her from the inside out. Her own adrenaline response was fighting back, but she kept it under control.

"Bow to your honored opponent." Came the first call. Both girls bowed.

"Draw your wands." Padma drew her wand, Nyx drew her sword.

"Assume dueling stance." Padma assumed the new stance that she had been learning in DA training. Nyx held the blade in a low position, the point directed at the floor, the back side of the sword close to her thigh.

"On the count of three you may begin"

"One" Padma breathed in, focusing her energy. Nyx breathed in, trying to stabilize herself.

"Two" Padma breathed out, starting to focus on her spell. Nyx breathed out, trying to make the spectral images and demonic phantoms around her go away.

"Three" With that, Padma cast a more polite spell than the _crucio_ Millicent had used. Padma shouted _'Vincio'_ and a blue-green bolt leapt from the wand toward Nyx's unresisting form. As the binding spell struck Nyx, it didn't stop. It simply slid off her body like she wasn't there. Nyx started walking forward. Padma looked confused. _'Tangere'_ Padma shouted, firing an orangeish bolt. Again, Nyx was struck and again the bolt slid off her like so much rain. Nyx had covered over half the distance between them. Padma could see Nyx's lips moving as if she was repeating something over and over. Padma had time for a single attack before Nyx would be upon her. Thinking quickly, Padma tried something different. _'Supplex'_ she shouted trying to get Nyx's knees to buckle. The bolt struck Nyx like it was supposed to, but Nyx's body refused to accept the spell. It was like there was nothing for the spell to cling to. As Nyx closed to less than five feet, she raised her sword and placed the flat of the blade on Padma's shoulder.

"I win." Nyx whispered. Padma could only stare. With that, Nyx lowered her sword, and returned it to its sheath. At that moment, Nyx collapsed forward, falling against her opponent. Reflexively, Padma held the young Spartan to keep her from falling.

As soon as she dropped, Metis and Asaria were already running to her side. In the few brief seconds it took for them to reach her, Nyx was already pulling herself back up. Padma could feel the girl against her. She was cold; deathly cold. She was barely breathing. Padma was even questioning whether Nyx even had a heartbeat.

"Thank you, lôtos." Nyx whispered as she started to support her own weight. As Nyx stood, she shuddered and shivered for a brief moment trying to recover her senses.

Snape and the members of the gallery were still staring, not yet truly believing their eyes. They had just watched a student from an isolated and forgotten school absorb an offensive spell. Then, within a few minutes they had seen a student from the same isolated and forgotten school walk through three separate spells without even noticing them. The spells had simply ignored her and continued along their way. The agents in the audience that were supposed to be taking notes could only stare in disbelief at what they had seen. Stunned silence reigned.

"Thank you for inviting us to your dueling class, professor Snape." Metis said calmly. And with that, the three Spartans took their leave of the classroom.

As they walked through the halls, Nyx was regaining her strength. "How are you feeling? I don't think I've ever seen you go that far. Do you need anything?" Asaria asked.

"Some water would be nice. Some cider would be nice." Nyx paused and smiled. "Some wine would be better." She chuckled.

"I think we might be able to find some." Asaria smiled. She could comfortably lose some of her secret stash of wine for her friend.

_My lord--_

_Spartans are a very physical group. They may even be what the old records refer to as Physical Adepts; those whose magic has driven their physical development into something more than human. They are restrained in their actions only when a leader is present. Given free reign, a Spartan lacks any form of impulse control. Any attack against an individual within the group is perceived as an attack against the group as a whole. The limits of the group are dynamic and appear to change and evolve. New members can be added. With regards to their magic, we have seen several very interesting applications of classic spells. We will continue testing them for their weaknesses. _

End ch3

Author's notes

I've noticed a few things so far.

Firstly (and most seriously), I have forgotten to publicly thank my three beta readers. Jawelik has several stories over on You should really think about checking out his work. Creepers58, your input is always welcome. She's an accomplished writer, but just needs some encouragement to start posting. And finally, Wolfe3141. I could say a lot of things, but she's always been real good at delivering a well placed boot to the head whenever I need one. Thanks guys.

Secondly… WHY ISN'T ANYONE REVIEWING?!?!? C'mon. I don't bite. I even respond to criticisms. Usually the same day. Flames are another story. So, be a sport and go click that 'Review' button.

As for the story, I've got plenty of material to last me a while. We'll have to se how long I can keep this one going. I still haven't shown off just how evil the bad guys are. And if you're any scholar of Star Trek or Role Playing games, you know exactly what that means.

H.


	5. Chapter 4 Story time

Standard Disclaimers apply.

Chapter 4—Campfire stories

Dinnertime in the great hall had come again. In the past few hours, tales had begun to circulate with regards to the Spartan Nyx. Some of the tales were fairly accurate and some, like any tale told at the school, had begun to take on mythic proportions. There were tales of Nyx summoning up great shadowy beasts to dispel Padma's magic. There were tales that Nyx had beheaded Padma in the duel and that Madame Pomfrey was called in to reattach it. Those that were there were either trying to dispel the rumors or were adding to them. Whatever the cause was, the effect was clear: Spartans were scary. They had strange magics and strange abilities. They were violent. They relished pain and abuse. And they were trying to convert members of the school to their way of thinking.

The golden trio (plus one, if you included Ginny in the mix) sat with their dinner. The normal gap that separated the Spartan section of the table from the rest of the Gryffindor table seemed larger and more pronounced. They could hear the Spartans babbling in their native Greek; someone had disabled the Babel charm as another step in isolating them.

Half way through the meal, Hermione pulled some notes from underneath her robe.

"I think I figured it out." She said, unfolding the note paper.

"Figured what out?" Ron asked.

"How she did it. It all has to do with names." Hermione pointed at some of the scribbles and shorthand. "That girl's name is Nyx. Nyx was a primordial goddess in Greek mythology. She was the goddess of night." She began.

"That's all well and good, 'Mione. But what's that got to do with her?" Harry asked.

"The name Nyx also appears as the 'Mistress of the Void' in some translations. Spartans name people based on abilities or activities. Somehow, I'm not sure how yet, she's connected to the Void. The reason the spells weren't affecting her was because she wasn't there." Hermione said with emphasis.

"What do you mean 'she wasn't there'?" confusion could be seen in Harry's eyes.

"She was letting herself slip into The Void. She was becoming nothingness. I found some old notes on people who tried to do that as a defense, but they always let it go too far and either they slipped completely into the void or else they let something else out. Either way, it's incredibly dangerous." Hermione was shaking her head, not believing that there was someone who could or would consider doing things like that.

Harry paused, taking in what she had just said. When he had finished processing, he stood up. "They're not dangerous. They're just different." He said in an exasperated tone. He turned to Ginny. "Are you coming, _Purrias_?" And with that, he took his cup and plate and started walking toward the Spartans. Ginny paused for a moment and looked at her brother for some semblance of support. When she received no objection or real reason to stay, she took her plate and cup and followed.

Harry and Ginny weren't exactly sure what kind of reception they'd get at the Spartan end of the table. Gregory Goyle had tried something stupid only the day before and had paid the price. Now they were walking into the lion's den voluntarily. Harry was on one side of the table and Ginny on the other. When they got to the group, the conversation didn't even stop. They kept talking in Greek apparently oblivious to the two people standing just outside their circle. Harry took a step forward putting his plate forward in an attempt to squeeze between two of them. This was it. This was the test. They'd either accept him or he'd wind up like Goyle. Much to his relief, as he pushed forward, the two bodies parted, giving him room to sit. Seeing his success, Ginny did likewise and was equally granted a place to sit.

The food at the Spartan table was nothing like what the normal tables ate. The dishes were different; they had more fruits and vegetables and were lighter and sweeter than the heavy meats and potatoes served on the main table. As soon as he sat, Greek faded into English in a smooth transition.

"Evening, Tradesman, Purrias. How was your day?" Iponia asked.

"Umm, fine, I guess." Harry replied.

"He doesn't even know how his day was! Clearly he hasn't been beaten enough!" Equis laughed . "Friend Ursus, would you do the honors?"

Harry's eyes went wide. Ursus smiled and chuckled at Harry. "Not now, I'm eating. I'll beat you later, little brother."

"And you, little Purrias. You seem tired. Is everything okay?" Iponia asked as she reached for a slice of the warm loaf of bread.

"Actually, I am tired. I haven't been getting any good sleep for a while now. I'm tired enough, but when I go to bed, I just can't seem to rest." Ginny confessed in a small voice.

"See, leader? The situation is getting worse. We need to take steps." Eos, the group's main healer commented.

Iponia looked around the table, then up at some of the Gryffindor girls. The strain of fatigue was evident on some of their faces. Dark circles and lines were marring the faces of otherwise beautiful young ladies.

"This is unacceptable. The six of you aren't sleeping and at least four of the Gryffindor girls are displaying similar symptoms. There are even rumors of other houses suffering the same fate." Iponia popped a stuffed olive into her mouth. "If nothing changes, I'm thinking we need a campfire."

Ursus perked up. "Campfire time?"

"Easy big guy. Don't go getting any ideas." Asaria chided.

Harry and Ginny didn't understand. "A campfire? I don't understand."

Iponia smiled. "When its time, you'll know. When it happens, be ready to move, and follow instructions without question the first time." This explanation didn't help any.

"Leader, whatever you decide, be it a campfire, relocation or something more extreme, we need to do it as soon as possible. It's going to take time to get Nyx back to full strength." Eos said gesturing toward Nyx. Ginny glanced over at Nyx. She looked pale and half-dead. Clio was sitting next to her, spoon feeding her a chunky stew and gently saying reassuring things to her.

"Is she going to be ok?" Ginny asked.

Clio looked up. "She'll be fine tomorrow. She just needs food, warmth and sleep." He rubbed Nyx's back tenderly. "She'll be fine." He repeated softly.

Eventually, dinner ended. As the Hogwarts crowd was breaking up, Harry turned to Iponia and asked "Would it be alright if I invited someone to join us?"

"Are you vouching for them?" Iponia asked as she refilled her cup.

"I trust them with my life. I would do anything for them." Harry said with conviction.

"Good enough. We'll see if they measure up another time."

Harry signaled to Ron and Hermione for them to join. A bit tentatively at first, the two joined the group. Large cups of a spiced cider were produced to accommodate the new guests.

"Ahh, Maia and Ochre. Welcome. We were starting to wonder when you would join us. Some of us more than others." Asaria beamed at them.

Hermione looked concerned. _We're being welcomed, and they've already given us names. This could be bad. _But having been welcomed and having walked all the way over, it would be rude not to accept. Hermione wedged herself in between Harry and Clio. Ron put himself next to Ginny in a vain attempt to protect his sister.

"Learn anything interesting lately, Maia?" Clio asked as he placed the cup in front of her.

Hermione tried to bite her lip to keep from talking.

Clio smiled. "Hmmm? _Anything_ interesting? With all that time you spend in the library, you must have learned something. There are so many interesting things to learn in your library." Hermione knew she was being baited. Something was up; she just didn't know what it was.

Thinking quickly and grabbing at any straw to try and save herself from spilling every piece of information in her head, Hermione blurted out the first thing in her mind. "I think I figured out how Nyx did her trick in the dueling class, but I'd really like to know, so would you tell me?" The whole sentence came out in a single breath and almost as a single word.

Iponia cocked her head and studied Hermione. "That's a very good question. It takes a great deal of courage to ask a question like that. Prying so deeply into someone's personal life. (pause) But I think you should really ask Nyx that question when she's capable of answering."

Hermione looked at Nyx. The girl had stopped eating and looked more like she was falling asleep. Definitely not in any condition to answer.

Ron and Ginny tried to help the conversation along. They made small talk and were generally annoying. Iponia admitted that since tomorrow was Friday, the normal morning exercises would consist of wrestling, so there should be a fairly large spectator turnout. Cups of cider were filled and drained. More bread and spiced oil was brought to pass the time. Most of the great hall was empty, with only an occasional individual lounging over some homework or other mundane activity.

The Spartans were being unusually chatty tonight. Harry tried to move the conversation along. "So, Ursus, why do they call you Ursus? I know the name means bear, but there must be a story behind it."

Ursus blinked at him. "I… umm… killed a bear."

From the opposite end of the group, Lyra loudly interjected and threw a piece of bread at Ursus in protest. "Athena's left nipple! You have absolutely no story telling ability whatsoever, you big oaf. I can tell the story better than that, and I wasn't even there."

"Then amuse us, oh great storyteller. Amuse us with the tale of Ursus and the Bear." Equis laughed clamping his friend on the shoulder.

"Before I begin, everyone must drink. It makes the story better." Lyra raised his cup in a toast. "To Ursus Bearslayer. The one among us who couldn't follow instructions and got away with it." Everyone raised their cups and drank deeply. The Hogwarts group noticed that the cider had a rich taste and made them feel warm and relaxed. It wasn't alcoholic, but it was relaxing anyway. The perfect thing for a cold English night.

"This tale begins like all good tales do; long, long ago in a land far, far away." Lyra began.

"It wasn't that long ago. Tell it right." Ursus interrupted.

"Who's telling this story? You or me? (pause) As I was saying before I was interrupted, once upon a time, there was a young boy whose parents named Leartes, who at the time was called Coragus because he never fought without his weapons and armor. To be honest, he was a bit of a coward about pain and suffering." Lyra laughed.

_A bit of a coward toward pain? By Spartan standards that means he was only a masochist. _Hermione mused to herself.

"At the end of his Iota year, it came time for Coragus to enter his 'Season of the Wolf'. That's when a young Spartan is sent out alone with only a spear to track, hunt, and kill a wolf and return with its pelt. I guess you would call it a mid-year exam or one of your O.W.L. exams. But I digress. Young Coragus reported to the sentinels for his Season of the Wolf. For the first time in memory, he stood there without his armor, wearing only his shorts. And I must say that it must have been an impressive sight. For we all know how impressive Ursus can be." Everyone laughed. Ursus tried to blush as Lyra let his fist and forearm drop heavily onto the table.

"So they took Coragus to the testing grounds. It was mid-spring and the beasts were out in force. But not a wolf to be found. For the first two weeks, Coragus stalked and lurked throughout the training ground. Mile after mile he covered. Not a wolf. At night, he could hear the wolves howling, mocking him." Lyra took another deep swallow from his cup.

"Now all this time, Coragus has been living off the land, just like you're supposed to. So he's really well fed. And then it dawns on him: The reason he can't find any wolves is that they're too well fed. He's picked the wrong season to come out and hunt. What he needs to do is lure one out with a meal that's bigger and easier to get than the rabbits and other animals they've been eating. Unfortunately, there's a whole lot of bunnies running around, and the wolves that have been seeded into the training ground couldn't find easier meals if they tried. So Coragus here starts trapping bunnies. He doesn't kill them; he just traps them and puts them in a basket he's made." Ursus hangs his head in shame as he starts laughing at this version of the tale. Equis is starting to laugh uncontrollably, pounding his friend on the back. Ron and Ginny are finding the tale funnier and funnier as it progressed.

"So anyway, within a day or so, Coragus has a basket of bunnies. Cute, little bunnies that he just can't bring himself to kill to use as bait. So he starts to augment his bait pool with these big salmon he's spearing out of the river. So here he is with one basket of bunnies that he can't bear to kill and a string of fish. He takes one of the fish and rubs it all over his body to mask his scent. And then leaves both the bunnies and the fish at the bottom of the tree. And to complete his perfect camouflage, he climbs the tree with his spear and waits. The rest of the day goes by and not one wolf comes to check things out. Coragus waits into the night. Nothing happens. When the sun rises, Coragus starts to become concerned. He's got two days to get his wolf or else he'll have to wait six months to try again."

"Now the rules for the Hunt are clear. No outside assistance unless you're going to die. Only one wolf is to be killed. Only the wolves are to be attacked. No other animals are to be injured. That's the official reason why he hasn't killed the rabbits, but we all know the real reason, don't we? But anyway, so here he is up in the tree. The second day comes and goes. The bunnies have chewed their way out of the basket, but because Coragus was feeding them so well, they don't go far. The fish are beginning to smell. Coragus is still perched in his tree, and by this time, his body is starting to complain. The last night of the hunt falls. Coragus is getting frustrated. He knew this was going to be tough, but he never thought failure was an option."

"Then, late at night, he hears something moving through the brush. The moon was a tiny sliver that night, and so he can't see much. Coragus raises his spear and prepares to attack what he thinks is a wolf. Without warning, the beast breaks into the clearing and begins to attack the pile of food Coragus has left out. Fearing nothing and in desperation, He leaps out of the tree down onto the furry mass below him. Unfortunately, Coragus has never had a good sense of proportion. In mid-air as he's leaping from the tree, he notices his target getting bigger and bigger. An instant before impact, he realizes that his target is far too big to be a wolf. But it's too late. And to make matters worse, when Coragus's spear strikes the beast, it doesn't kill it; it just makes it mad."

Lyras's tone became darker and more serious adding emphasis to his words. More cider was consumed. "The great beast reared up and for the first time Coragus can see that it's a bear, and not some overfed wolf. With spear in hand, Coragus stabs the beast repeatedly. Each strike dug deep into its flesh. But the bear hasn't noticed. The beast is massive. When it rears up on its hind legs, it's taller than Coragus by more than a foot, probably two. In a move of blinding speed and ferocity, the bear swings downward with its massive paws. Coragus tries to block with the only thing he has. But the bear's weight is too great and the spear snaps. The two-inch thick, hardened oak spear shaft snaps, leaving him with a two foot long dagger and an eight-foot long stick. Coragus takes the eight-foot length and strikes the bear in the face and the throat. Now the bear is really mad. It starts to charge. Coragus, having far more brawn and balls than brains, leaps at the bear. It should be noted that Coragus was that year's pankratos champion. The youngest on record." Lyra paused as the Hogwarts group looked lost. "Pankratos is like your 'Mixed Martial Arts'. But we practice it like you practice quidditch. Don't worry, you'll see tomorrow." Lyra smiled.

"So, Coragus drove his knee into the bear's ribs with full force. The bear roared in pain and Coragus managed to not fall on his bony behind. The bear went back to all fours, which was exactly what Coragus wanted. He leapt up and onto the bear's back and with the strength of his ancestors, he reached around the bear's neck and began to choke it. He had one arm around its throat and the other had its pulse. The bear tried over and over to shake young Coragus from its back. But he held firm. The bear rolled over trying to dislodge him. The crushing weight of the bear forced the wind from his lungs. When the bear smashed Coragus to the ground, it did so in the worst possible way. Coragus lost his grip on the bear's pulse, but he exchanged it for a grip on the two-foot long, steel tip of his spear. When the bear tried to stand back up, Coragus thrust the sharpened tip of his spear into the base of the bear's skull. Silently and painlessly, the bear simply fell forward." Lyra spoke with cool finality. Lyra took another drink.

With what must have been a whisper, with everyone at the table hanging on his every word, he said: "But that wasn't the end. The next morning the two sentinels arrived to take Coragus home. Coragus stood there, waiting for them, the heavy pelt in hand. They looked at him; they looked at the pelt; which was clearly not the pelt of a wolf. The first sentinel looks at him and with that straight face they always have, says: 'Coragus, where is the pelt of your wolf?' Coragus looks him dead in the eye, and without missing a beat says 'Couldn't find one. Found a bear. Is that good enough?'" Lyra starts laughing. "SO… they haul him back to the Agoge. Coragus has broken one of the rules of the hunt. They put him before the headmaster. The headmaster is livid. He's screaming about having Coragus skinned and left for the wolves. Coragus looks at the headmaster, and explains 'Couldn't find a wolf. I improvised, just like you taught us.' Now, the headmaster is stunned. Someone has actually thrown one of the headmaster's lessons back at him. So, after much deliberating, the headmaster orders Coragus brought out to the assembly courtyard and orders him to be lashed to one of the columns. Blah, blah, blah, the headmaster gives us all a lecture about following the rules, how instructions are meant to be followed. Then, the headmaster orders Metis to administer thirty lashes as punishment."

Ginny gasped at the though of such barbaric treatment. The Spartans smiled.

"So Metis gets out the lash, but rather than be lashed to the column, Coragus is standing there with his hands flat on the column. No restraints. Metis makes him count every strike of the lash. And when it's all over, the headmaster himself changes Coragus' name to Ursus. Then, his new cloak arrives, and they've taken the bear fur and trimmed his cloak in the fur. You are looking at the only Spartan in memory NOT to have wolf fur trim on his cloak. In a world of uniformity and conformity, Ursus is unique." Lyra raised his cup to Ursus. "All Hail Ursus the bear slayer; Bane of wolves and protector of the fuzzy bunnies!"

The Spartans cheered and laughed.

All four of the Gryffindors were speechless.

Friday morning, 6:22 AM. The Room of Requirement

The Room of Requirement had been summoned for this morning's training. The floor was thickly padded, the walls were padded to a height of six feet, there was a small fountain of constantly cycling cool water, and a table covered with various bottles. And somehow, even Madame Pomfrey had been summoned along with a comfy chair and fresh pot of tea for her comfort.

The Spartans, both new and old were assembling in the Room. Most of them anyway. Two were missing. Apparently Hermione and Ron were sleeping in.

"Ochre and Maia are missing." Asaria sighed. "Tradesman? Suggestions?" she asked Harry.

"Well, I suppose someone should go get them, preferably before Iponia or Metis finds out." He suggested. "Or we could just let them sleep." Harry actually managed to keep a straight face. But when the people around him started laughing, he couldn't help but join in.

"You two go get Ochre. You come with me and we'll get Maia." Asaria pointed at Spartans, rather than at any of the Hogwarts students.

At 6:24, the Gryffindor common room had been breached. Other students that were milling about recognized the walls of muscle moving with purpose. Students were virtually throwing themselves out of the way. By 6:25 two doors in the boy's dormitory had been kicked in with no sign of Ron. Equis hurriedly looked at Ursus. "Bathroom." They said in unison. A few seconds later, they were checking stalls in the boy's bathroom. Ron was yawning and scratching himself as he stepped out of one of the stalls. They were on him before he could react. He began to shout in alarm.

"Shut up, Ochre. You're about to be late." Equis told him. Ron's feet were no longer anywhere near the ground.

"Huh? Late for what?" Ron's mind was reeling from his abduction and the early morning hour to be able to think clearly, but then suddenly, as he was being carried through the hall like a sack of potatoes, his mind went 'click' and a fragment of a memory came forward. Morning calisthenics. Wrestling practice. Ron was going to scream in protest, but stopped short, figuring that doing so would give them more pleasure. This morning was going to hurt. When Ron and his abductors arrived at the Room, it was 6:29 and change. They dumped him on the padded floor. Ron was still dressed in his loose fitting pajama pants and t-shirt. He'd lost one of his slippers along the way. Off in the distance, Harry was sure he could hear the heavy, measured footsteps of Metis, the instructor.

At 6:25, Hermione's door crashed open. Before her eyes were fully open and her brain registering, her blankets had been pulled back.

"Who?" was what came out of Hermione's mouth but it was quickly overridden by something else.

"Hades." Eos spat in disgust as she saw that Hogwart's Academy girls had something in common with Agoge girls: they dressed similarly for bed. And it wasn't in shorts and a t-shirt. Eos turned to Asaria. "Clothes" she shouted. With that, Asaria began ripping through the dresser, searching for appropriate clothing. Clothes went flying as Asaria dug for something appropriate.

"UP!" Eos shouted. Hermione was barely registering. Eos pulled her up into a roughly standing position. It was nearing 6:27. Three minutes to go.

"Clothes" Asaria shouted as she turned away from the mutilated dresser and piles of clothes and toward Hermione and Eos.

Eos looked at Hermione's knee length nightshirt. This would have to be quick. The shirt would have to go. Asaria was suddenly there with clothes in hand. Eos pulled her dagger and made a rapid cut to the side of the nightshirt and pulled it off Hermione's mostly unresisting form.

"Wait, that was my…" Hermione tried a momentary protest. She was now standing there in only her knickers; plain cotton knickers with small yellow polka dots. Eos quickly took hold of her arms and pulled them up while Asaria tugged the shirt down over her head and arms.

"Time to go" Eos said as she threw Hermione over her shoulder. As the three of them charged through the halls, Asaria was trying to get a pair of shorts onto Hermione's flailing legs.

6:28:45 and they had reached the edge of Gryffindor territory. Asaria had managed to get the shorts over Hermione's feet and knees and up to her mid-thighs. Even the though the shorts were now as far up as they could go, Hermione's knickers-clad arse was still hanging out, proudly displaying her 'colors' to anyone and everyone who happened to notice. The Spartans were sprinting now. They could see the crowd gathering outside the doors of the Room of Requirement.

"CLEAR THE WAY" Hermione screamed, knowing full well that if she didn't, the two girls carrying her were perfectly capable of running other students over.

The threesome burst into the Room. They quickly returned Hermione to her feet and took up spaces in the rows. Hermione pulled up her shorts, trying to salvage what was left of her modesty and dignity. There were some snickers from the crowd.

As always, the Spartans were clad in gray. Some were already sweaty. The quidditch team was in burgundy and gold. Ron was in annoyingly loud plaid pajama pants and a green shirt. Hermione was in a pair of green shorts and a black t-shirt advertising a rock band that had toured through London a few years prior.

"Now that everyone is here, we will begin." Metis proclaimed. And with that stretching and calisthenics began. Thirty minutes later, they paused. Hermione and Ron were becoming winded.

"Prepare yourselves." Metis called. With that, the longer haired Spartans began to tie up their hair into tight braids and buns. Ron noticed Ginny was sitting on a stool getting her hair done by Eos, who in turn was getting her hair done by the now rejuvenated Nyx, who was getting her hair done by Kopis. Hermione gasped in momentary surprise when someone clapped their hand on her shoulder.

"C'mere, sit down. We need to fix your hair." Iponia told her as she pushed Hermione down onto one of the benches at the perimeter of the Room.

"I'm getting pretty tired of you people pushing people around and being so arrogant. What gives you the right—OWW" Hermione cried out as Iponia pulled her hair tight and began to braid it. "What gives you the right to yank me out of bed, destroy my favorite nightshirt and then parade me through the halls in just my knickers?" The braiding continued without a response. Hermione sighed and tried to be calm about what was happening around her.

"So what's the story about Nyx? Yesterday, she looked like she was about to die. Today, she looks fine. What happened?"

Iponia spoke with a short wooden rod gripped between her teeth that she was using to keep the braids tight. "I told you yesterday. All she needed was food, warmth and a good night's sleep. Clio saw to all of that. He took care of her, just as any of us would. He always takes care of her."

"Wait... what do you mean? Are they 'involved'? Are they just friends? Really good friends?" Parts of Hermione's mind were starting to race. And not the nicer parts.

"We use the word 'partner'. Based on what I've read so far, you might translate it as 'friends with benefits'. And yes, they're partners." Then it clicked in Iponia's mind what Hermione might be asking, in that subtle, understated, merely-hinted-at-rather-than asking-what-you-really-mean way that these people tended to use as language. "You're interested in him, aren't you?"

"I have no earthly idea what you mean." Hermione harrumphed.

Iponia chuckled. "I should have known. Brains attract brains. I can take steps if you're really and truly interested."

"That won't be necessary. Really. That won't be necessary. You see I've already got a boyfriend."

"Sure you do, Maia; you've got Ochre. But he's got designs on Asaria. And that's something he's going to regret when Asaria's partner figures it out. Assuming he survives the experience."

"And who's Asaria's partner?"

Iponia took hold of the nearly complete braid and turned Hermione's head toward the small cluster of Spartans some of which had already begun half-heartedly beating each other, and a few were now trying to convince Ron that he really needed to either ditch the pajamas for a pair of shorts or cut the legs off of them. It looked like Ron wasn't going for either option.

"Who? Equis? Equis is her partner?"

Iponia shook Hermione's head in a 'no' gesture and then turned it a little more to one side.

"Oh, my." Was Hermione's response. Iponia had pointed her head directly at Ursus. Seventeen years old, six foot four inches tall with a chest that two people could sit side-by-side on that had muscles in places most humans didn't even have. His six-pack abs tapered into a well-defined waist and a well-define backside. _Did I just think that?_ And his legs; ooh so taught and long. Hermione could imagine them and the feel of sliding her hands along them… _Merlin's beard, I am thinking it_.

"OK. Braids are done. You should be safe." Iponia said, snapping Hermione back to reality. "You sure you don't want me to help you along? Spartan dating practices are a little different than yours. I could always send Clio to help you 'research' them." She smiled and stood up to leave.

"Wait." Hermione gently grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving. "Two things before you go." Iponia nodded. "What do you mean she got 'a good nights sleep'? None of us on that end of the dormitory can sleep."

"Campfire." Was all Iponia said.

Hermione glanced around and then looked sheepishly up into Iponia's face. "What could you do? You know… to see if he's interested or anything. Not that I'm asking you to or anything. But…"

Iponia smiled a crooked, knowing smile. "Spartans respect courage and directness of action. We are not known for subtlety. But sometimes you have to be clever. And sometimes, it's okay to temporarily fail as long as you win or at least get what you need."

"That makes no sense." Hermione furled her brow.

Iponia sighed and walked toward Metis. She nodded briefly as she approached as a show of respect. They had a few brief words. Metis appeared to smile, but it was difficult to tell over the distance involved.

"Attend" Metis shouted. The Spartans and their guests formed up into their lines. "There has been a change in plans. The gallery will be cleared." This was cause for much grumbling as the students who wanted to watch were ushered out. "Madame Pomfrey, it is doubtful your services will be required. However if you wish to stay to satisfy the Ministry's observational rules, you may." Pomfrey proceeded to pour herself another cup of tea, indicating her intent to remain.

Metis looked over here charges with a grin that barely contained her laughter. "The Pankratos that was scheduled for today has been changed. For amusement and a welcome break from the training schedule, today shall be _Elaioô Katoxos Pankratos_!" Several Spartans tried desperately to hide their laughter. A few succeeded, but most failed miserably. Several others cheered the decision. "There is no gallery but even so, we must adhere to propriety. You must keep your clothes on." There were some groans from some Spartans, both male and female alike. "Nonetheless, I want to see you having fun. Standard rules apply: Two slaps of the mat indicates submission. Chokes must include a limb to prevent crushing the windpipe. No gouging. I will be observing and participating at random. Three groups. Finish your preparations." Metis announced. "Room," she commanded. "Raise the temperature in here by ten degrees. Thank you." And the room obeyed.

The female Spartans took hold of the two Hogwart's girls and pulled them over into a small group.

"We need to change your attire. These shirts you're wearing won't work. We need to make changes." Eos said as she pulled her trusty dagger.

"Wait… What's Elaio katoxux… whatever it was she said." Ginny asked.

Eos sighed. "It's pankratos, or a milder form of it."

"That doesn't sound too bad. We might actually survive." Hermione said with some hope in her voice.

Asaria shook her head and snorted a small laugh. "It's milder because the wrestlers are covered in oil which keeps their opponents from getting a good grip." Simultaneously, the Gryffindor girls' eyes went large.

"Wait. We can't do this. We'll be rolling around on the floor, all oily, with…"

"Yes, you will. And so will they."

Both Hermione and Ginny blushed at the thought.

"Your shirts. They need to be fixed. They're too long."

"What do you mean too long? They're normal length."

"At that length, you won't have oil on your skin. That would give your opponent someplace to grab."

"Well, what options do we have?"

Asaria contemplated their options. "As I see it, you have four choices. One, we modify the shirts you're wearing into something useful. Two, we go find you a Spartan top that would fit you. Since neither of you are exceptionally large, you might fit one of Eos' or Nyx's tops. Three, we find some bandages and bind your chests. Finally four, and you aren't going to like this one, is that you could go topless like the men do."

Asaria was right, option four wasn't going to happen, although the exhibitionist idea held sway in Hermione's mind for a moment or two longer than it should have. _Why do I get these thoughts when I'm around them?_ She glanced briefly around the room. The guys, Spartan and Hogwart's alike had stripped off t-shirts and shoes. Ron had even lost his pajama pants and had gone to a pair of boxers that were being adjusted for greater security.

Hermione followed Ginny's glances. A field of abs and behinds; Greek and British alike were on display for her personal amusement. _Think cool, relaxing thoughts. Don't let this get into your head. Those people are your friends. And your best friend. And your boyfriend. You're going to be rolling around on the floor with Ron with both of you covered in oil. And mostly naked. And… _

"I said, 'which would you rather do?" Eos half-shouted.

"Oh. Umm… I guess binding would be the best, right? I mean there's less chance of things coming off or popping out. Right? And I'd really like to keep this shirt." Hermione said quickly trying to cover her lack of attention. A few moments later, a few long rolls of bandages were located in Madame Pomfrey's bag. (A/N: An ACE bandage, to the rest of us.) And within a few moments Hermione and Ginny were standing there shirtless, but with proper levels of coverage. The bandages made for acceptable tops.

"You look wonderful, ladies." Clio commented as he walked over toward them. "Are you ready to get ready?"

"I suppose." Asaria said as she turned her back to him.

"What?" Ginny was getting concerned. As she stood and watched, Spartans began applying oil to themselves and to each other. They didn't seem to be taking much notice of the activity. It was just one more thing that had to be done. But when a pair of muscled hands began to work oil into her back and arms, Ginny began to have other thoughts. The hands carefully worked the oil onto her back and sides. Apparently there were rules to the whole oiling process. She closed her eyes and just let it happen. The hands made sure that all of her back was oiled. From the back of her neck to the backs of her heels, the hands worked the oil into every square inch of her. Even the places that were covered with clothing were now saturated with oil. She felt the hands, and presumably their owner move to her front. She felt the oil being poured onto her body. The feel of the oil running down her chest was incredibly sensual. Something was going on; the feelings and emotions and drives that were in her brain were being magnified. The hands returned. They were again working their way across her body. But this time, the hands were tentative. And there was a scent. A personal scent that Ginny had come to know. Ginny smiled at the individual that was oiling her. Without opening her eyes, she spoke to him.

"C'mon Harry. Just do it. We both know you want to." She chided him. With permission given, Harry's hands finished their ministrations to the sound of soft moans and whispered comments. His hands roamed up and down her front, making sure her skin was well covered. After what was either far too long or not nearly long enough, Harry whispered to her: "Finished. Your turn." Ginny opened her eyes.

Harry Potter, her eternal crush was standing in front of her. He placed the bottle in her hands and turned around. Ginny repeated the favor Harry had shown her. Her hands found every line and curve on his legs. They found the firm expanses of his back. And when she was finished with his legs, her hands were given opportunity to roam freely over his chest. She could feel his pulse start to race, matching her own; his breathing became ragged at times. There was an urge to do so much. Were it not for the crowd, there would have been an incident. Ginny stood close; too close for safety but not close enough for her tastes. She could feel the heat of his breath. The radiant warmth of her body was mingling with his. They stood less than an inch apart. The line that kept them apart was becoming thinner and thinner. This was an instant in time that they could both feel. Ginny wanted nothing more than to finish this; her body was betraying her, as was his.

"Ahem… When you two are finished getting ready, there are beatings waiting to be administered." Metis said with a chuckle in her voice. The two students backed away from each other with a rising blush and some mild embarrassment at being caught, but not for the chemistry they felt. Groups had already started fighting. "Lucky for you that your observer isn't being observant." She nodded toward Madame Pomfrey who seemed to be dozing quietly in her chair. "Come on; let's go get you two involved in something else. Preferably in the day's activities. Purrias, you're over in that group," Metis pointed. "Tradesman, you're over here." She pointed at another group. Ginny shot a momentary glance toward Harry, who returned the glance with a soft smile.

The cheering and laughter was deafening. People were shouting, offering advice and encouragement to the fighters at the center of the group. Harry slowly walked into one of the groups, trying not to be noticed and trying to give himself as much time as possible to calm down and return to normal. Smoothly and nonchalantly, Equis came to stand next to him.

"Everything okay?" Equis asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the fighters.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine." Harry replied distractedly.

"You seem a little more stressed than you were earlier."

"I'm fine." Harry said coldly.

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." The icy tone increasing as Harry tried to keep his voice down.

"It happens to everyone at some point, you know." Equis nodded as he watched Lyra being smashed into the mat, never taking his eyes from the fight.

"It does?" Harry winced at the sound of Lyra hitting the ground.

"Yep. Everyone. Even me; even happens to Ursus. Even Eos and Iponia. You should see Asaria after she gets oiled. Don't worry. You'll survive."

"But why do I feel like this? All jittery. Especially when I'm around you people."

"It's your body responding. All the humors in your body are being awakened. As they awake you go through changes. As your body smells the residue of our humors, it responds in kind." Equis explained calmly as he watched Lyra squirm out of a hold that Campé had him in. Lyra reversed the position and was trying to get a grip on Campe's neck. It wasn't working.

"What do you do about it?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes from the fight.

"You could get yourself a partner, which I'd recommend, or you can take care of it yourself. Either way, if I were you, I'd figure out a way to relax. But not now."

"Why not now?"

"Because you're up next." Equis smiled.

Harry looked into the ring. Campé was helping Lyra to his feet. They clasped hands and gave a half-embrace and then stepped from the ring. There was applause from the circle in recognition for the fight.

Harry stood shock-still for a moment, hoping that if he did, no one would see him. Equis gave him a push and forced him into the ring. People cheered.

"Who wants to give Tradesman his first lesson?" Equis shouted to the group. Several people laughed. At first, no one moved. Then a woman stepped forward. The first thing Harry noticed was that her hair was blonde, as opposed to the dark brown and black hair of most of the rest of the Spartans.

"Ready to learn?" She asked.

Harry nodded. From his hand-to-hand training, he knew that Spartans made sure a person knew how to properly do things before beating them senseless.

"Careful, Selene. He's more hedone than sanguine!" Equis mock-shouted. The group laughed. The Babel charm was failing again.

Selene looked at Harry with a smirk. She put the palm of her hand up to his cheek, and stroked it gently; almost lovingly.

"Don't worry; I'll be gentle with you." And with that, she slapped his cheek leaving an oily handprint.

Selene went into a slight crouch, lowering her center of mass. Harry did likewise. She raised her hands slightly. Again Harry did the same. "What's Rule One in combat, Tradesman?" She asked him.

"Confidence, not Arrogance." Harry replied. The memory of his first lesson in that rule came back quickly.

"Good boy. Remember that. Ready?"

"As I'm going to b-huhh" Harry's sentence was cut short as Selene pivoted and kicked into his chest with the sole of her foot. Harry was propelled back a few feet until he was caught by two sets of arms and thrown back into the ring.

"Rule Two: Eyes open, mouth shut." She smiled wickedly.

Harry tried to convert he momentum from being pushed back into the ring into an attack. He flung himself at Selene, hoping to tackle her to the ground like he had seen some of the other wrestlers do. He managed to catch part of her, but between her motion to evade and the oil on her skin, Harry hit the ground and slid a few feet.

"Nice try," she said. "If we were dry, it might have worked."

Harry lay there on his side, looking to all the world like he was trying to get back up. But as Selene got closer, Harry kicked at her shin. Between the force of the blow and the oil on the soles of her feet and on the mat, Selene fell to the mat with a resounding 'thud'. The group started cheering and laughing as Harry scrambled to his knees and quickly threw himself on top of Selene.

"Rule One." Harry grunted out as he tried to control her. The surprised crowd cheered more than they laughed. Selene pushed against his body, trying to wiggle herself out from under him. Harry was trying desperately to grab hold of something he could use for leverage. Someone in the crowd shouted "KNEE! Knee her!!" For once, he listened. Harry slammed his knee into her side. Selene grunted at the impact. People cheered. Harry threw himself onto Selene's upper body in an attempt to pin her to the ground. The oil allowed Selene to maneuver so that by the time Harry was in position, she had rolled onto her stomach, thereby denying the pin. With one arm, Selene reached between Harry's legs and attempted to get a workable grip and with the other she reached up and got a grip around the back of Harry's neck.

The oil made everything next to impossible. Harry was trying desperately. Selene started to pull her legs up underneath her. When she had managed to pull herself into a tight ball, someone in the crowd saw her tactic and started pointing and laughing. Harry had only a few seconds to figure out what was happening as Selene went into a simple summersault, reversing their positions; and as soon as her backside hit the mat, she pulled her arms together, bending Harry into an almost unnatural position. Harry half-groaned and half screamed as he was transformed into a human pretzel.

After a loud and boisterous three-count, Selene released Harry from his prison. The two wrestlers stood up, a little shaky from their match. Selene turned to Harry and extended her hand in the traditional post-fight congratulatory embrace. As she pulled away, Selene smiled at Harry, and with a sly wink softly said,

"Good match. Maybe next time we meet, you'll get lucky."

Harry stood there not knowing how to respond.

Across the room, Hermione was being given her second lesson. She had been pulverized by Eos the first time. This time, her opponent was Clio. He stepped into the ring opposite Hermione. They both leaned in preparing to fight. They both wore heavily padded leather gloves, so that punches to the face wouldn't cause permanent damage.

"How are you doing Maia?" Clio whispered.

"I'm ok. A little jumpy, because you're going to pin me to the ground and beat me to a pulp in a few seconds." The defeatist side of her mind may have held sway, but her pulse started racing anyway as she closed on Clio.

"I'll make you a deal: You pin me and you get an hour of unrestricted question and answer time from me with regard to the Agoge and the Spartans. Anything you want about any subject." Clio was offering up the ultimate aphrodisiac for a person that collects knowledge. All she had to do now was beat a man at a sport he'd been playing for years, one that she'd been playing for less than an hour.

"And what if you win? What do you want from me?"

Clio smiled. "We'll discuss that when it happens… Hermione."

Hermione was stunned when he used her name. She was stunned for that fraction of a moment when Clio struck both of her shoulders, throwing her off balance. Luckily, she recovered quickly; but the damage was done. Clio was fast for an academic. Hell, he was fast for anyone. Clio dove for Hermione's midsection, locked his arms around her waist and picked her up off the ground. Hermione shouted a protest, but the hold only lasted a moment as she was slammed to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of her and she elected to just lie there. Clio looked at her with a distasteful expression. He started to move in for the pin, but the crowd was booing the short fight. Clio jumped to his feet and began hamming for the crowd. More like a professional wrestler than a Spartan, Clio antagonized and made calls to his audience. Asaria nodded to him when Hermione got to her feet and began moving toward him. Clio continued playing to the crowd but stopped moving, giving his opponent a stationary target to attack.

With blinding speed and a primal roar, Hermione did just that. She leapt onto his back, throwing one of her arms around Clio's neck, desperately trying to get a choke hold, but rapidly losing to gravity and the oil. She had managed to wrap her other arm around his forehead. Hermione flailed with her feet trying to knock one of his knees out from underneath. Clio quickly reacted by grabbing hold of her arm to keep his airway open.

"Drop, you bastard, drop!" She hissed into his ear. "You know you want me to win. Give it up before I have to hurt you!" The animal side of her brain was taking control. Raw adrenaline was surging through her veins. The reptile portion of her brain was demanding satisfaction, and whether that satisfaction came from ripping Clio's throat out with her teeth or something else entirely made little or no difference.

Clio chuckled as he leaned forward and went to one knee. As his center of mass changed, Hermione tumbled forward and landed on the mat with another 'thud'. Clio moved in close and put one knee squarely on her chest and his hand on her throat. Hermione grabbed hold of his forearm and tried to pry his grip away to no avail. After a few seconds, he smiled down at her and got up. Clio reached down and offered his hand to help Hermione to her feet. As she stood, Clio pulled her into a half-embrace to congratulate her on the fight. When they were close, Clio whispered into her ear. Hermione came away with a smile and a blush on her face.

Another hour of wrestling, and the exercise time was over. Eighteen oil-slicked and exhausted young people made their way to the showers to clean the morning's exertions from their bodies.

In the girl's showers, Ginny was having trouble getting the oil and sweat-sludge off. Ordinary soaps simply had no measurable effect on the layer of oil. As she stood under the hot spray, audibly complaining, there was a knock at the stall door. Startled, she turned around and opened the door a crack to see who was there. Wrapped in a towel, Iponia looked back at her.

"Here. This makes it easier." Iponia said, handing Ginny what looked like a curved-blade bronze razor. "It's called a stigil. Just scrape the sludge off, then use soap. You can return it to me later."

"Thanks." Ginny smiled, accepting the gift and prepared to return to her shower.

"You're welcome. Incidentally," Iponia whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "there's a campfire tonight. Be ready."

"Wait. I still don't know what a campfire is. I don't know what it means." Ginny complained.

"You want to sleep, right?"

"More than anything."

"Then just be ready." And with that, Iponia walked away.

Elsewhere, in an old, half-darkened room a group of men sat.

"They have few weaknesses. If a leader is displaced, the next one takes up the position."

"So simply removing their leader won't work. What else could we do?"

"What if we were to threaten their parent school?"

"It would be like attacking a fortified military base. The moment the first attack struck, they would respond with whatever resources they had. Then they would call for reinforcements. There would be thousands of them, and they would be willing to wage war against us for decades without regard for personal safety. It would be reminiscent of attacking a colony of Siafu. "

"I never said anything about attacking. They may respond to a perceived threat much better than an actual one." The leader of the group raised his hand decisively. "Direct physical attacks against them are pointless. I was thinking perhaps something psychological; something corrosive to their group. The group is their strength and their weakness. They are essentially innocents. They are lacking in certain concepts. That is how we will attack them."

"We are still prepared to instigate an attack to fully gauge their abilities."

"Good. I was getting bored with television this week."

Everyone laughed.

Author's notes

Hokaaaaay.

The Romans and Greeks didn't have soap. To clean themselves, they would cover themselves with olive oil and then scrape the sweat and olive oil gunk off with a curved piece of bronze called a Stigil. I just updated it a little.

Humors were postulated by Aristotle and others to describe conditions of the body. To be told that you're more 'hedone than sanguine' would translate to being told that you're being ruled more by your passions and genitals than by anger and rage. (I'll let you translate beyond that.)

Another confusion in translation would be that what they're describing as humors, modern science would call pheromones. At 16-17 years of age (the approximate age of the students involved) the human body starts putting out pheromones in massive quantities. The more physically fit a person is, the more concentrated the pheromones are. The more a person sweats, the more pheromones are pumped into the air. So on an unconscious level, pheromones generated by the Spartans (and as they become more fit, the Hogwarts group) will start having effects on the people around them. Males will attract females, females will attract males, both males and females might start seeing people of their own gender as a threat towards mates. But if you're raised in that cloud of pheromones, the effects are less among those with a similar pheromone level. Those with less pheromones are therefore 'inferior specimens'. Isn't the human brain a wonderful thing?

One last thing. I'd like to thank my newest beta, Toramassa. We may write with different styles, but I always value his opinion of my writing. (No, I will not start blowing things up just for dramatic effect.)

H.


	6. Chapter 5 Campfire Time

Chapter 5

It has been said that soldiers are nothing more than little children grown large. Spartans are born and bred to be soldiers; which means that by the time Metis' group reached Hogwart's Academy, they were little children grown VERY large.

Every moment of a Spartan's life is regulated. Every hour of every day is spent in contact with the group. For very good reasons. Close observation of the students is essential to ensure that the group is always safe and is always healthy; mentally, physically and emotionally. But there are side effects. Groups tend to become insular. They start to see all outsiders as enemies.

A Spartan solution to a problem tends to be direct and logical. Whether or not an outsider can see this logic or even appreciate the solution is their problem, not the Spartan's.

Friday night began like most nights. There was dinner and conversation in the great hall, study and homework in the library, cards and socialization in the common rooms, and weapon and armor maintenance in the courtyard. Eventually, the hours wore on and students retired to their dormitories to sleep. But, as had been the rule for the past week, there were those for whom sleep would be an elusive goal.

Hermione Granger was one of those for whom sleep was elusive. She had gone to bed at ten, just as she did every night (except for those nights she was buried beneath a stack of books). Tonight, just as she did every night for the past week, she stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster and masonry trying to will herself to sleep. Every time she got close, there was THAT noise. It lingered on the edge of her consciousness, right at the audible limit of hearing. The noise buzzed with that perfect frequency that set her teeth on edge, robbing her of any meaningful sleep.

Minutes ticked by. The universal lights-out came and went. The sound of a professor patrolling echoed through the halls. Quiet.

Then came the scratching sound. A moment passed. Then the scratching returned.

"Yes?" Hermione whispered. The door opened silently, faint light spilled into the room.

"It's time." The voice said.

**Saturday Morning, around 4 AM**.

In the dead of night, Mister Filch made his rounds through the halls, checking for any wrongdoings or mischief. No wrongdoings, no mischief-makers to be found. But it was a door that caught his attention. An ordinary door for a dormitory, to say the least; but the door itself wasn't the issue. It was the fact that the door hadn't been closed. Standard procedure was to have every door secured at lights-out. Filch pushed on the door slightly and it opened with his touch. Quietly, as not to disturb any sleeping students, he poked his head into the room, his lamp casting a pale orange pool of light on the floor. What he saw, or rather didn't see caused him to raise the alarm.

Within minutes, an emergency meeting of the faculty had been called. Headmaster Dumbledore paced with concern.

"How many students are missing?" He demanded to no one in particular.

Dean McGonagall gave the alarming answer. "Fourteen students are unaccounted for."

"This is unconscionable. How could so many students have been abducted in a single incidence?" He paused to get himself back under control. "Who exactly is missing?"

Filch spoke up. "There are four Gryffindor girls missing, four Ravenclaw girls and the entire Spartan girls contingent."

Metis coughed while trying to drink from her mug. "Mister Filch, would you say that again? Simply for clarity."

"Four Gryffindors, four Ravenclaws and your entire cadre of girls."

"Tell me about the missing girls." Snape asked, trying to find some kind of rhyme or reason to the abductions.

Filch proceeded to list the names of all the missing girls.

"Do they have anything in common?"

Filch scratched his head a moment. "They was all the ones what were complaining about the buzzing noise."

"I thought as much. I know where they are." Metis chuckled, shaking her head.

"Where?" Dean McGonagall demanded.

"They are perfectly safe, I can assure you."

"Where are they?"

"I can assure you that they are not in any danger and are in the safest place on this campus."

"Where. Are. My. Students?" McGonagall was getting angry.

"Follow me." She sighed.

Metis lead the gaggle of teachers deep into the Gryffindor dormitory. The Boy's dormitory. As they approached the end of the dormitory that housed the two rooms given over to the Spartans, Metis suddenly stopped well before reaching the rooms.

"Sentinel." She spoke calmly, almost as if she was giving a casual greeting. And it was the response that bothered the other professors. Before their eyes, a shadow unfolded itself. The shadow went from being a nondescript patch of darkness cast on the wall, to being a young Spartan in full armor, with sword, shield and spear at the ready.

"Good morning, headmistress. All is well." He reported with pride.

"Thank you Campé. You may return to your duties."

Dean McGonagall made faces like a gasping fish at the sight of an armed guard in the hallway. "How long have you been posting sentries in the dormitory?" she demanded.

"Every night since we arrived, in two-hour rotations." Metis smiled and walked past the sentry to the first of the two rooms the boys occupied. "You may not like what you see, but rest assured, all is well and your students are safer than they have ever been." With that warning, Metis quietly opened the heavy oak door for all to see.

As the lamplight entered the room, it revealed a sea of humanity. Students were sleeping everywhere. They were sleeping three to a bed. Every square inch of floor was covered with bodies wrapped in pillows and blankets. There were makeshift hammocks strung between bedposts or suspended between spear-trees. The soft sounds of breathing and light snoring could be heard. The Hogwarts' girls were recognizable by their house colors or their home-grown nightshirts and pajamas. The Spartan students were easily recognizable by their dark red nightshirts some of them wore and by the weapons they gripped in their sleep. Some slept with daggers strapped to their thighs, some had swords curled up in their arms. But what was more scandalous was the fact that in their sleep, some of the students, Spartan and Hogwarts alike, had curled up together. The scene resembled nothing so much as a great slumber party gone horribly amok. Professor Twycross' warnings were becoming apparent.

"How can they be safe? They may be armed, but they're still asleep." Snape whispered, attempting to find fault.

Metis sighed. "Ursus, Eos, wave." She said in a tone barely above a whisper, picking two students at random.

Ursus uncurled an arm from around Asaria's sleeping form and waved. As he returned his arm to the sheathed sword resting on his chest, he was careful not to wake Asaria, who was sleeping on his right or Padma Patil, sleeping on his left, both curled up against him for warmth. In a distant corner of the room, Eos waved from a cluster of peacefully sleeping bodies.

"Carry on." Metis whispered as she closed the door.

"Yes, Headmistress." Someone sleepily muttered.

The cluster of teachers returned to the Gryffindor common room before the professors began shouting.

"What is the meaning of this? Why are all those students sleeping together?"

"It's called a 'Campfire' and indirectly, Dean McGonagall, you and I caused it to happen."

McGonagall stood agape. "How could I have caused this?"

"At the beginning of the week, the issue of sleepless nights was brought up at the staff meeting. You told me to solve the problem, and forbade me from erecting tents on the school grounds. I told my students to solve the problem using their own initiative. They did."

"But what are the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors doing there?"

"Sleeping, from what I saw." Metis replied.

"That's not what I meant."

"The Spartans were there because it was the safest place they could find. It was safe from whatever the source of the buzzing noise was. They sought the company of their 'family' in time of crisis."

"And the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws?"

"The Gryffindors were there because some of them had been adopted by my students. They were being offered protection as they would offer protection to any member of their family. I suspect the Ravenclaws are there as an act of compassion."

"Spartans don't show compassion." Snape observed. "This is evident from the number of bruises, sprains and dislocations that have been treated in the infirmary."

"I know. That is a bit unusual. I'll have to speak with them about this 'weakness' they seem to have picked up. And for the record, the only students that have suffered major injuries are your students that have been attempting advanced maneuvers without benefit of proper training."

"And what of the possibility of those students doing 'other' things? Sleeping together could simply be a guise for the students practicing…" Professor Twycross started ranting, his moral indignities railing.

Metis smirked and raised a hand, stopping him in mid rant.

"Did you happen to notice how closely they were packed together? If anyone could perform your 'activities' with that many people around, much less feel amorous in that setting, they are far more determined than I give them credit for. Besides…" Metis paused.

"Besides what?" Snape questioned.

"Besides, they can't and they won't."

"Won't what?" McGonagall couldn't make the connection.

"Never mind." Metis sighed. "Suffice to say that the odds of anything untoward happening to your students by the actions of my students is as close to nil as you can get. They gave me their word. And violating their word TO ME would be tantamount to betrayal and would be a severely punishable offense."

"Regardless of your assurances, there is still a problem with your explanation." Snape began.

"And that problem is?"

"How did they get there?" Snape looked at Metis, his piercing eyes trying to pull the information from her brain.

**FLASHBACK**

Asaria walked up the hall from the dormitory rooms she shared with her Spartan sisters. She had visited one room already, rousing a pair of Gryffindor girls that had voiced their insomniac problems. Purrias (Ginny) and her roommate were already gathering up what they'd need for the night. Asaria stopped at the other door. She paused, scratching at the door with her fingertips, making a sound that was barely audible. She paused a moment, then repeated before entering the room.

"Yes?" the bushy-haired girl asked as she sat up in bed.

Asaria looked at her and then to her roommate. When he looked back, she smiled softly; "It's time" was all she said before turning and leaving the room. The open door was an invitation that could not be ignored. Hermione looked puzzled for a moment, and then scrambled out of bed and into the hall to see what was happening. Her roommate followed an instant or two later.

In the hall, six Spartan girls were making final adjustments to the bundles on their backs and to the bundles on the backs of two Gryffindor girls. Hermione furled her brow, comprehension eluding her. She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, but as her mouth opened, one of the Spartan girls clamped her hand down over the open space. "Campfire" the girl whispered. "Pillow and blanket." Within a minute or two, ten girls crouched in the darkened hallway, each with a bundle on their back. "Atropos, go." Asaria whispered and tapped the deeply-tanned girl ahead of her on the shoulder and gestured with two fingers.

The race was on.

The group moved slowly and carefully through the halls. Twice they had to pause as a roving professor made her rounds. Once, the professor even stopped and looked around for some half-heard sound or felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, alerting her to some unseen presence. But each time, the professor returned to her rounds, completely unaware of the long chain of students snaking into the darkness.

The group paused briefly when they reached the common room. Atropos halted the group just before they crossed the threshold of the Gryffindor common room. She waved Nyx forward and communicated via gesture.

"Nyx. Go check the painting. Make sure it's asleep."

Nyx nodded. She took a few cleansing breaths before stepping into the common room. Quietly, feigning half-asleep, she stepped into the large room. None of the paintings moved; some were even unoccupied and dark. Nyx walked lightly to the base of the stairs that led to the boy's dormitory. She stepped onto the first step, and nothing happened. Normally, as soon as a girl touched the stairs, it would begin shifting to prevent 'unauthorized entry' into the boy's side of Gryffindor territory. But this time, nothing. At the halfway point on the stairs, Nyx paused; still nothing happened. Nyx continued. She reached the top of the stairs. Still nothing. Opening the door from the outside would trigger the stairs. This would require speed and accuracy. Nyx waved to Atropos. Atropos waved, indicating not only the Gryffindor girls behind her, but the four Ravenclaw girls and their Spartan guide crouched at the door at the opposite side of the room. Gestures were exchanged. Almost everyone was here. So far, everything had gone smoothly, but this last step was the most critical. At least eight of the fourteen girls would have to get up the stairs and through the threshold of the door before it could react and move the stairway; there was an alternate plan already in place for the other six. As Nyx waited, crouched by the heavy oak door, the door at the top of the stairs made a sound. It went 'click'.

Normally, the sound of the door latch being turned would have never been heard. But here in the dead-silent room, it echoed and was as loud as a shout. Nyx pivoted on her heels, as her hand went for the dagger on her thigh. There was darkness beyond the door; darkness and a face.

"Can I help you, little one?" Clio whispered through a smile.

Nyx punched him playfully in the chest. Behind Clio stood the other four available male Spartans. "I brought some friends. I figured this might not go smoothly."

"Good thing." She smiled. "I brought some friends too." Nyx pointed to the two groups waiting to move up the stairs.

Behind the two crouching Spartans, Ursus had begun securing braided ropes to the door hinges and any other point that looked secure enough to support the weight of a person or two. Equis and Kopis were already down amongst the girls, gathering up their bundles. One less thing to worry about. When they returned and had placed the bundles inside the dormitory hallway, it was time to bring the others inside.

Atropos and Asaria gave instructions to their charges; how much time they'd have, exactly how they were supposed to and in what direction to run, how they should group themselves and what to do if something went wrong. And above all, they were not to make a sound. Even if they fell or slipped or tripped, no sound was to be made. That was paramount for the success and survival of the group.

The five Spartan boys took up positions on either side of the rail of the heavy stone staircase, suspended by ropes and looking like a mountaineering expedition. Quietly, the girls moved into position. Three rows of girls formed at the base of the stairs. On command, all eight of the Hogwarts girls began to run up the stairs. Nyx stood halfway up the stairs, trying her best to camouflage the other girls; if not to hide them, then to at least slow down the reaction. Between the presence of the boys, and the lack of a shadow cast by Nyx, there should be enough confusion to make tonight's gathering a success. Hand signals were exchanged. Gestures went back and fourth confirming everyone's readiness. Iponia raised her hand, signaling she was ready. Every Spartan, male and female, raised theirs. The Hogwart's girls, after a moment, raised their hands. Iponia made another gesture and all the hands but hers dropped. Iponia nodded to the boys at the top of the stairs. Her hand dropped.

As first row of girls passed Nyx, and began to clear the last few meters of stairs, there came a deep rumbling from the ground beneath them. Simultaneously, Clio, Nyx and Kopis began gesturing for the students to move faster. By the time the first row was through the door, the stairs had already shifted noticeably. The gap separating the first and second rows was less than one would expect. Apparently, being in a state of near perpetual siege by the forces of darkness had improved the reflexes and speed of your average Hogwart's student. The second row of students was forced to jump across the rapidly expanding chasm that the shifting staircase was creating. When it came time for the third row -the Spartan row- to step across, the gap had widened to a point where it was effectively impossible for anyone to move across form the staircase to the dormitory.

Like a flock of birds, the six Spartan girls changed their course away from the door and the rapidly expanding void. Together, they turned left. The heavy stone railing closed in on them. Without a moment's thought or hesitation, they jumped. Selene, the blonde-haired girl with the watery blue eyes was the first one to leap. Her dive carried her to the sill of the door, where she was forced to pull herself up with matched set of skinned knees and a bruised nose from the force of impact.

Beside Selene was Atropos. The scout of the group regarded this as little more than a leisurely run. She was universally despised when it was her turn to lead the callisthenic run. The woman had more stamina than any two Spartans combined. When she leapt, she flung herself into the air with more style and grace than could be imagined. When she arrived on the far side of the gap, she was swept into the waiting arms of Kopis. She barely needed his support, but was grateful for it nonetheless.

Next in the row was Eos. As she planted her foot and leapt, her footing shifted at the last instant. Now she was no longer leaping nor was she confidently sailing through the air. Now she was falling. Not a sound left her lips. Lyra was the closest one to her. He had been assigned to catch her if she fell. Lyra's first action was to push himself off from the wall toward her falling form. In mid-air, their forms collided. Aside from the sound of impact there was complete silence. They had entangled their bodies together, forming the best grip they could. As they fell towards the granite wall, they braced for impact. When it came, they were ready. When this was over, they would either need to climb back up to the door or be helped up by someone strong. Hopefully Ursus wouldn't be too tired out or hurt after this.

At the middle of the flock of Spartans was Nyx. She was deliberately almost a half-pace behind everyone else. The aura that defined her was supposed to provide protection for the others. Maybe it was still useful, maybe not. But whatever it was doing, it was helping. As Nyx flew through the air, Clio was ready to catch her; as he always was. He was her safety net, both here and in their day-to-day life. She knew he would always be there.

Iponia did her level best to make the leap graceful. Atropos may do this for fun, but there was no way she would out perform the group leader. But this time, she had failed. Somehow, she had come off the rail facing just a little too far to the left, and now she was off course. Equis was supposed to catch her, but the spacing was now off by just a few feet, but it would be enough. Iponia struck the wall with a faint slapping sound. Mustering all her strength, her fingers and toes dug into the seams of the great stone blocks that made up the wall. It wouldn't hold for long, but it was something. Equis reached out, his hand guided by instinct. He pivoted on one foot, sweeping out a wide arc with his arm as he grabbed for any part of Iponia he could lay his hand on. His open palm struck the small of her back, a few inches above the coccyx. It closed on what fabric there was. Between her poor grip, and the sudden slap of Equis' hand, Iponia's grip failed. She began to fall. There was a sudden sound of ripping cloth as the waistband of her knickers disintegrated. Then as her body started to fall, Equis's other hand found its mark. He had a wrist-to-wrist hold on the class leader. His shoulder was threatening to dislocate, but this grip would hold.

On the very end of the row was Asaria. She displayed no fear as she made the longest leap of them all. Leaping from any somewhat stable structure into the waiting arms of her partner, Ursus was nothing more than a game for her. Years of leaping off of various trees, rocks, walls and shelves had prepared her for this moment. She knew his arms would be there. Whatever problems emerged with her leap, his arms would be there to catch her. She could have closed her eyes and made the leap. But she didn't. That would violate the First Rule. But still she smiled to herself as she flew towards the wall.

When all was said and done, fourteen girls and five boys stood huddled inside the Gryffindor boy's dormitory. They gathered up all evidence of their presence and headed down the hall toward the room the Spartans kept. People would be sleeping soundly tonight.

The entire operation had taken less than two minutes.

Deep in the fortified warren that made up the Slytherin dormitory, Draco Malfoy slept deeply. He was content. The Slytherin were the top house for the moment, He had been named to the position of prefect and he had avoided what could have become a rather nasty confrontation between his socially acceptable 'on-paper' girlfriend and his mistress. Everything was going his way.

Deep in his dreams, he could hear a voice calling his name. He'd been hearing it for a few nights, but tonight the voice was gaining strength and volume.

"Draco Malfoy" the voice intoned over and over, trying to get his attention.

"Hrrmf?" was all he managed.

"DRACO MALFOY WAKE UP NOW" the voice commanded. Draco did as commanded. His eyes shot open, and he sat up in bed, a cold sweat lightly gracing his skin.

"Yes?" Draco looked around the room. Standing in his room was what could only be described as the shadow of a man. It shifted and flowed through various shades of gray. But it was clearly a man.

"I have come to offer you a bargain."

"Who are you?"

"A man. A traveler from afar. But if you truly require a name, you may call me Yana." The shadow bowed graciously.

"Yana. An agent of the dark lord, I assume? Or perhaps another death eater with visions of grandeur?"

There was a distant and rather malicious chuckle. "And why would I claim to be in league with a pathetic waste of power like him? He was a pathetic individual whose powers were sorely limited by his lack of imagination."

"So who are you?"

"As I said, I am Yana. And before you ask, your enemy is allied with my enemy. And as your kind is so fond of saying: The enemy of my enemy, and all that nonsense."

"So what do you want of me?"

"I will be direct, as time is short. I can give you what you want. Personal power, redemption for you father, wealth," it paused, "the complete and utter destruction of your foe, perhaps? Or even some rather…beneficial additions to your personal harem perhaps? And don't think I don't know who you've been secretly lusting after for all these years. That little tern of a girl that haunts your dreams can be yours." The voice paused again. Even though the shadow had no eyes, Draco could feel his visitor peering into his mind. "Or perhaps you have designs upon a Spartan girl. It would give me no greater pleasure to give one of them to you as a gift. Would you enjoy that?"

"…"

"I thought as much. I will give you assistance in your quest for power. It will arrive where the Spartan girl weakened the barrier. His name is Enyo. He will assist you in your… endeavors. Enjoy." And with that the shadow faded into nothingness. Hours later, Draco Malfoy woke from his slumber, unsure whether he'd had a bizarre dream or had just made what could become a profitable deal.

Sunday mornings were supposed to be a time of rest. There wasn't an alarm clock or a gong signaling that it was time to rise. Bodies lay spilled around the room, each one enjoying the warmth and the quiet. But when the sunlight from the single window in the Gryffindor spilled warmly onto the floor, there was no mistaking the time.

The suns warming rays traced a path across the floor, gently caressing every student they touched. Some mumbled incoherently, some turned over trying to get the light out of their eyes; one responded with all the energy and political correctness one would expect from someone of her upbringing and social position.

"Oh, bugger." Hermione Granger muttered.

Quickly, she woke the other students. Moments of panic ensued when they learned of the time. By now, surely their absence had been discovered. By now, surely there were surely people in the Gryffindor common room. By now there surely people in the hallway between the dorm room they were all in and the rest of the school. Never had the distance of a hundred meters seemed to be so far.

"What do we do?" someone wailed. "They're going to know we spent the night in here!" "The rumors!" "What will I tell my boyfriend?"

Iponia sighed in resignation. "The solution is simple. We walk." Most of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaws stared at her in shock. "And as for your boyfriend, you can either tell him the truth, or you can embellish the story and tell lavish tales of the debauchery that happened."

Within a few minutes, the room was being emptied of its occupants. They had been told to act casual, like they belonged there. Because for all intents and purposes, they did. The Spartan girls started the conversation and helped it along, making sure the giggles were kept to a minimum and that the topics of conversation were not as vulgar as they could easily have become.

Boys in the hallway stared. Some ducked for cover. It wasn't every day a column of girls emerged from the depths of the boy's dorm; especially a column of girls clad in nightshirts and pajamas, carrying blankets. Conversations stopped in mid step. The girls continued about their business. Some heading up the opposite stairs and some leaving Gryffindor territory.

"Must've been a rough night." Metis said calmly.

Iponia nodded.

"Plan on doing this again?"

"If I need to." Iponia said, watching her charges leave the room.

"Interesting solution to the problem."

"I thought so." She smiled, confident in her solution.

Sunday afternoon should be a quiet time of reflection for most people. Assuming, of course, they had finished their homework that would be due Monday morning. This Sunday afternoon found eleven of the Spartans entertaining a crowd of onlookers with target practice. Arrows and javelins flew into targets with varying levels of difficulty and distraction. Targeted shots were made to various body parts on painted silhouettes. Body parts were numbered to improve targeting. As time passed, and Spartan humor began to take over, the shots became more and more outlandish.

"Hit this apple while you are held upside down by your ankles, and having one eye covered." Asaria dared Kopis, holding a fist-sized apple in her hand.

Kopis replied with a spitting noise. "Pfft. And you can't come up with anything challenging?"

Asaria smiled wickedly. "I'm sure we can come up with a distraction or two; just to make it interesting."

Other competitions included things like 'how many arrows can hit a single target?' or 'can you throw a spear into the air and then hit it with an arrow?' and finally 'can Ursus throw another Spartan through the air and catch them while they make a targeted shot with an arrow?' Arrows gave way to javelins and eventually to spears. When the spears were in use, everyone spoke in whispers so as not to 'offend the spears' or 'give the spears ideas'.

"Spartan!" someone called from the gallery. The world stopped. Everyone turned to see who would have the gall and arrogance to interrupt; Draco Malfoy and his entourage. Every Spartan and every Hogwarts observer stared.

"Sorry," he chuckled. "I meant to say: Spartan Selene, may I have a word with you?"

Selene nodded, giving him leave to enter the training area. Draco hopped the short wall and stood against one of the stone columns, insisting that Selene come to him. As Selene passed Kopis, she whispered, "Be ready. Zone 12, aim low." Kopis nodded and walked over to his javelin, and picked it off the rack. He toyed with it, making no issue of his motions. Its silver-grey metal tip warmed under his touch; knowing its use was not far away.

Selene walked over to where Draco stood. She stopped a comfortable few feet in front of him. She could feel his arrogance as a palpable field emanating from him. She wondered whether the gooseflesh on her skin was from him or the cool weather and sweat on her skin.

"What do you want, Drakonthomilos?" Selene sighed.

"Such a nice name you've given me. Does that mean you've accepted me as one of your own?"

"Not hardly."

"I've been watching you practice for a few weeks."

"Mmm? Really now. But everyone in this school has been watching us train from the first day we arrived."

"Yes, but I've been watching YOU, specifically. And I must say it is an impressive sight to see you out here with your comrades. You are a beautiful young lady, and I was wondering if you might be interested in doing something socially with me, or even accompanying me to the festivities after the Autumn Feast." Draco was using every bit of sincerity he could muster. Even his entourage was quiet, giving his actions more credence.

"I'm flattered."

Draco smiled. "And maybe afterward, you could show me some of the wrestling I've been hearing about."

"And what have you heard?" Selene softly smiled, allowing a seductive tone into her voice.

"Only that you and Potter wrestled each other while covered in oil. And that you beat him."

"You heard correctly. He wasn't much of a challenge, but he had spirit. And I like people with spirit." Honey was dripping off every word she spoke. Draco's mind was succumbing to her feminine aura. The flirting continued.

"Maybe you'd like a real man to show you what real spirit looks like?" Draco's attempts at flirting were getting obvious and were passing into the realm of blatant.

Selene smiled at him. It was a warm, passionate -almost lustful- smile. A smile that said she and Draco were on the same page. Stepping a half-step closer, she put her hand on Draco's cheek. He leaned into it like a puppy. Her other hand dropped and flicked, as if working out a stiff muscle.

"A real man with real spirit?" She half-whispered. Draco nodded. "I might like that."

With that, she drew closer, coming around to his shoulder to whisper softly in his ear. Draco smiled anxiously until his eyes shifted forward and saw Kopis in motion and the four-foot javelin flying at him. Before he could move or react to anything, the javelin struck the stone column with enough force to stick straight out. The javelin was stuck in the stone barely an inch below the crotch of his pants. The sheer panic of the moment and the near loss of his manhood caused an involuntary reaction that was perfectly acceptable in a moment like this one: Draco wet himself.

Selene looked down at the javelin and the emerging stain and puddle and then into Draco's eyes. Her hand had never left his cheek. She smiled at him. "When you find a real man, let me know." She gave him a gentle slap on the cheek so that he wouldn't forget what had happened, and turned and returned to her group.

Author's notes:

Sorry for the delay. Writer's block. The one paragraph I needed to write to finish this chapter became two pages.

Next Chapter: Advanced DADA training (part 1), the Spartans discover Quidditch, and some quality time (Spartan Style).

And I promise to have it out sooner.


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